


i was late (but i arrived)

by soetry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Pining, Pining Scorpius Malfoy, Questionable Magical Explanations, Repression, i've never actually written a happy scorbus fic so, kind of, not a tag but i'm making it one, scorbus is really sad in here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soetry/pseuds/soetry
Summary: It's been seven years since Scorpius Malfoy finished his education at Hogwarts - along with finishing his friendship with Albus Severus Potter, who had (quite rudely) disappeared from his life abruptly. Scorpius has been fine without him, however, and there's no reason for him to complain about anything in his ordinary, simple, and content life.Right?
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. the patronus

**Author's Note:**

> updates will be sporadic since this is very much a work-in-progress, and chapters may be randomly updated/edited. however, this has definitely been a brain baby of mine and i'm super happy to share it with you all! :)

_You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories._

_Stanislaw Jerzy Lec_

**PART I**

Scorpius Malfoy groaned, pitifully, to himself as he adjusts his position in the comfy, but taunting chair.

His father warned him about being a Curse-Breaker. Said that he’d most likely be in a desk job for a year or two before _actually_ getting to break curses. And here is his chair again, laughing at him. Like every day, because he got stuck in this hell hole.

 _Stuck,_ he thinks wryly, may not be the right word, however.

First, he had a nice little job at his Aunt Pansy’s newspaper joint — meaning when he first got out of Hogwarts seven years ago, but then left after she remarried for the fifth time to that Smith bloke. (He loved his aunt, but he could just not _stand_ Zacharias Smith, the fathead. Scorpius and his father, Draco, hope she divorces him soon like the others, but this six-year marriage is the longest one yet. Sadly.)

After that, he worked at his Uncle Zabini’s Potion Plaza shop in Diagon Alley, where many people liked him. Given, _everyone_ liked Uncle Blaise, so his employees weren't left in the dust. His father liked it when he worked there, but Scorpius was just so _over_ all of the potion nonsense — considering how many times he had to tutor students in school; sometimes being brilliant is a tragedy — so after three years he resigned much to his uncle’s dismay, and had to dodge out of Blaise Zabini’s eyes to not be hypnotized to stay. (His uncle is too good-looking for his old age.)

And after _that_ , he laid low in his childhood home, the Malfoy Manor, while his father complained about his presence, even though everyone knew he loved having Scorpius around so much. After Scorpius’ mother’s death when Scorpius was in his seventh year, Draco was never really happy without Scorpius around.

Scorpius had stayed unemployed and free-renting for nearly a year before he found out that the Ministry was low on Curse-Breakers. In Britain, as well, and he snatched the opportunity. He and his father never really talked about it when he applied — they don’t like being disappointed, and hardly ever talked about expectations. Scorpius wasn't at all hoping, really. He didn’t think his remarkable N.E.W.T scores would overlook his name.

But they _had._

Apparently an anonymous reference letter had supported him. Scorpius, although curious, had shrugged that off in favor to just be ecstatic for his newly acquired job. His dad had rolled his eyes and recounted all the misfortunes of being a Curse-Breaker but was nonetheless pleased with his son being chosen out of what had to be hundreds of applications.

So, Scorpius has had this job for a little over a year and a half.

Yet the most Curse-Breaking he’s done is un-bewitching the DMLE’s coffee machine when Frank Longbottom II had jinxed it to squirt the coffee in the drinker’s face, while scalding hot, accidentally. (He was always a little lost in school, but mighty well at Defense Against the Dark Arts, that one.) Even _then_ , that happened a while ago, and Scorpius hasn't had much action since. 

So, Scorpius sulks, once again, in his seat, thanking every wizarding deity that it’s Friday, while knocking off strategies on an American project that the Junior Curse-Breakers — in their pretty, plum robes — are working on. Some nasty thing that makes Nifflers think genitals are some type of gold.

Sometimes, Scorpius reckons, that a desk job is right up his alley.

Abruptly, the door slams open. Scorpius jumps, then glared heatedly at the tall, beautiful woman in front of him.

Junior Curse-Breaker, Roxanne Weasley, gives him a grin that’s illegal in Wizarding London, he swears, since it’s so _unknowingly_ sinister. She joined the Curse-Breakers a year after she got out of Hogwarts, which was three after Scorpius, with the help of a reference letter, as well; her Uncle Bill Weasley’s. (Scorpius doubts any Weasley-related family member can't get a job they want.) She’s a nice girl, really, but he does not like anything about her actions. She’s worse than — than —

Well, Lily Luna Potter, and Scorpius used to hide in cupboards from that fiery little girl.

Quickly and loathingly, he shoves the Potters to the back of his mind and continues to glare, albeit cautiously, at the spawn of Angelina Weasley and _the_ George Weasley.

Roxy grins, wolfishly. “Hey, Scorpy.”

She might be the only person who can call Scorpius that without losing eight fingers. 

“Miss Weasley,” Scorpius greets, attempting to busy himself with papers on his immaculate desk. He moves them around, studying them, even though they were already where they needed to be. “How may I help you?”

“In a lot of ways, but I doubt you’d agree to any of them,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes. 

Scorpius mentally groans. 

“You are my co-worker, Roxanne, I highly doubt any ideas of yours are appropriate,” he retorts, sounding haughty, but he doesn't really care.

“Oh, quit your worrying. You like women sexually just as much as I do,” she snorts, politely flopping down on one of the two stiff, plastic chairs in front of his desk. She scrunches up her nose, moving, restlessly. “You should get new chairs.”

Scorpius flushes. “Well, you aren’t wrong on either account.”

Roxanne chuckles. “You’re so posh, Scorp. ‘Minds me of school. ‘Member when we first met?”

Scorpius gives a hesitant smile. Of course, he does. Her older brother, Fred Weasley II, had been jumping up and down in excitement to introduce his sister to his friends. Scorpius was just weary because he rather disliked his old school friends. 

Well, not _really_ , but one in particular that he knew was bound to come up if they continue to talk about school.

Roxanne leans back her chair, balancing it on it’s two back legs. “Those were the days. When you used to like us.”

Scorpius almost lets out an involuntarily low whine. “I still like you!” His voice is very high-pitched, and not at all convincing.

Roxy sends him a look.

He huffs. “Fine! Let’s see… Well, how’s Louis doing?!” His tone is almost demanding.

Roxanne's expression is filled to the brim with amusement, and her lips purse to conceal laughter. “F-Fine.”

“Nothing about this is funny,” says Scorpius, grey eyes flashing. “How’s Fred? Molly? Hugo? Rose? Al — ” He stutters to a stop.

Roxanne turns serious. “Fine, really. Got a promotion at St. Mungo’s as — ”

“I don’t care,” Scorpius says, swiftly going back to his papers and regretting that he ever snapped.

“You asked,” Roxanne tries, a faint smile gracing her lips.

Scorpius stays quiet, only sounds of parchment moving around is heard.

“Come on, Scorpy,” she persists, exasperated. “You haven’t been over for centuries — ”

“Seven years is hardly a century — ”

“ — you should see Grandma Molly at Christmas time! Old age, probably, but is always a tad surprised when you don’t walk in with Uncle Harry and Draco, side by side with Al.”

Scorpius stiffens. 

He does quite miss Molly. 

He shakes his head at himself.

“We’re grown up, we no longer talk, it happens,” he stands, moving to the file cabinets on the left side of the room, sifting through the papers, aimlessly.

“That doesn't happen to best mates like you and — ”

“ _Roxy_!” Scorpius shouts, eyes wide and pale skin red. “ _Please,_ can we _n_ _ot_ do this today?!”

Roxanne shuts up, lips parted in shock. “I — I — ”

Scorpius sighs, berating himself again. “Oh, I’m sorry, Roxanne. I’m just… Tired. And a little on edge this morning, see, I forgot the sugar in my coffee.”

That was true, but they both know that Scorpius would rather just avoid any conversation that has Albus Severus Potter’s name in it for the rest of eternity.

Roxanne nods, nonetheless. “Of course, I understand.” Then she brightens. “Hey, I’ve got an idea! Let’s go for drinks tonight!”

Scorpius visibly recoils. He hasn't gone for drinks since he was unemployed. He hasn't really done any social actions since he’s been unemployed.

He likes to blame his father.

“I — I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Rox,” he says, edging back to his desk.

“You’re right; It’s a _splendid_ idea! ‘Cause it’s mine, of course!” she adds, but Scorpius’ weary expression doesn't budge. She sighs. “Come on, Scorpy! When’s the last time you went out?” She leans in, conspiratorially. “When’s the last time you’ve been laid?”

Scorpius flushes exactly fifteen different shades of reds and pinks before settling at his normal pale. “That’s hardly your business, Roxanne Weasley!”

“Which either translates to never, or a _very long time,_ ” she snorts.

Which was more or less true. Scorpius hasn’t had sex for three years. _Three years!_ He’s not even sure the last one counts because the most penetration was two fingers up his arse.

 _Not like you’ve enjoyed any sex you_ have _had_ , a sinister voice rings in the back of his head, but he ignores his inner git.

“Once again, that is none of your business, Miss Weasley,” Scorpius reprimands, cheeks still a bit blotchy with pink blush stains.

She sighs. “But — Come on, Scorp. After we go to the Patronus, we can go to a club!”

“A straight club?” Scorpius arches an eyebrow.

“No! That new one that gives you the color-coded wristbands based on your orientation! That — uh…”

“I am not going to the Full Cauldron with you, Roxanne!” Scorpius says, trying and failing to stifle his laughter. “That is _asking_ for trouble.”

Roxanne pouts. “Oh, come on! Look, I invited some of the old school friends! If you were telling the truth earlier, and you actually do still care about us, you’ll go.”

Scorpius had half a mind to simply reject, and go on with his life, but he didn't want to seem like a _complete_ ponce. And it _would_ be nice to get a drink or two and see some old faces…

Already regretting his decision, Scorpius sighs, “Fine.”

Roxanne shoots up in her seat. “Really? Oh, that’s great, Scorp! That’s — Oh, everyone will be _elated!_ ”

“Who exactly is attending?” Scorpius asks, straightening his posture.

“Oh, no worries, mate, no one triggering,” she winks. “Ooh, but maybe you could come over for Christmas, and — ”

“Roxanne, I thought we were going for drinks,” Scorpius says, secretly amused behind his exhaustion.

“Right,” she frowns. Then smiles. “Anyways, go to the Patronus at nine! See you later, Scorpy!”

Even after Roxanne left and Scorpius was already delved in work, did he think about how this might’ve been a mistake.

—————

Oh, it was definitely a mistake.

Scorpius smooths down his shirt for the fifth time, criticizing himself even harder. 

Should he even wear this type of shirt? Is Muggle clothing still acceptable for a night out? Should he have stopped by the Manor and picked up some nice, wizard robes? A million and one questions swarmed his mind as he imagined what tonight would detail. That’s what sucks about not going out anymore. You forget what it’s like, and you’re anxious instead of calm.

 _No, that’s what you get when all of your friends only like you because of your best friend,_ a terrible, taunting voice rings from the back of his head. 

_No,_ Scorpius is used to arguing with the little demon. _Because Roxanne still likes me. She misses me. It wasn’t just 'Albus Severus and that Malfoy kid'._

_Then why did it take so long for her to offer?_

Scorpius frowns to himself, then turns and busies himself with his wallet.

Abruptly, a loud thud comes from the living room. Scorpius navigates his way through his bedroom, to the open-plan flat. Draco Malfoy, soot covering his pristine robes, coughs, lightly.

“And exactly when was the last time you cleaned your Floo, Scorpius?” Draco asks, disapprovingly, as he casts a cleaning charm.

Scorpius chuckles, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, dad. What’re you doing here?”

Draco flicks his wand, and a bag of clothes appear. “Can’t you wash your own clothes? You're so fond of Muggles, just go to the… _laundromat,_ or whatever.”

“Laundromat, dad,” Scorpius corrects, levitating the bag to his room. Then he frowns. “Why didn’t Kinky send it?”

“It’s _Klinky,_ Scorpius,” his father admonishes. “And I’m so glad you’re happy to see me.”

“Oh, come off it,” Scorpius grins.

“Klinky has to take at least a week off every six months,” Draco says, “because of… Ministry choices, of course. He’s been gone for six days, already.”

Scorpius lets a small smile slip, as he moves to the kitchen, preparing tea. “‘Course. Mrs. Granger-Weasley loves them.”

“I used to spend over 500 Galleons on those elves every year, Scorpius,” Draco says, hotly. “I’m fine with paying them, but the _requirements._ ”

Scorpius chuckles and brings the tray of tea towards his father who spares a quick thanks. “Sorry, dad, but I’ll have to cut this one short.”

His father eyes him with a stormy grey over the rim of the teacup. “I noticed you cleaned up. Are you going out?”

Scorpius shifts, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

“With who, may I ask?” Draco’s gaze burns.

“Some… old school friends,” Scorpius finishes, glancing up. He catches eyes with his father.

“With… Anyone I know?” Draco asks, setting his tea down.

Scorpius sighs, sinking into his couch. “Not any… _Potters,_ father. At least I don't think so.”

Draco gives him a measuring look. “Weasleys?”

Scorpius, eyes closed, grins.

Draco huffs. “Of course. All of your friends _were_ Weasleys. Except for the Parkinsons and Zabinis, but you still preferred the… _Gryffindors._ ”

“At least they weren't Hufflepuffs,” Scorpius laughs, standing and grabbing his wallet and wand from the counter.

“No, leave that to our dearly beloved cousin,” Draco says, dryly, but everyone knows how fond he is of Teddy Lupin.

“Bye, Dad,” Scorpius sings.

“Goodbye, Scorpius.” Draco smiles, already cleaning up the tea when Scorpius Apparates.

—————

“Scorpius!” Roxy cries as he walks into the Patronus, a pub that had started becoming popular directly after the war; when stories about the Savior spread and became legends during his own time.

Scorpius smiles, warmly. “Hey, Roxanne.”

Behind her, a group of familiar faces stands, craning their necks to see Scorpius.

Junior Auror, Frank Longbottom, grins wider than the sea at the sight of him, and waves, enthusiastically. Fred II and Lucy Weasley glance at him, and — once he caught their eye — make a show of sitting down, unimpressed. Molly Weasley II smiles at him and sits down. Anne Bones looks at him cautiously before settling down with a hesitant smile, and Remus Finnegan-Thomas sends the same type of smile before sitting back down by Anne. Louis Weasley gives him a sideways smirk, as charming as ever, and winks at him before going down. Next to him, though, sits Rose Granger-Weasley. Scorpius avoids her eyes.

Roxanne gives him a small, weak smile. “They’re a bit weary. Besides Frank and I… Well, they haven't seen you in forever.”

 _Not like they tried,_ the sinister voice cackles.

Scorpius just nods and follows Roxy to the table. He sits down between her and Fred, and straight across from Rose.

“Hey,” he greets, and gets murmured hellos back.

“Haven't seen you in a while, mate,” Remus’ tone is hesitant.

“Yeah, we’ve missed you,” Anne, his girlfriend, adds.

Scorpius hears a snort, and pointedly ignores Rose’s gaze.

“Sorry about that,” Scorpius says, bashfully.

“No worries,” Louis’ soothing voice sounds. “Anyways, where’s Hugo, Rosie?”

“Work,” she says, shortly, referring to Hugo’s position as Chaser on the Chudley Cannons team — much to his father’s overall adoration.

“Always work, that one,” Frank whispers to Scorpius, winking clumsily. “Wish Bella and Zeke could come, though.”

“Marriage,” Molly snorts, rolling her eyes. “Who cares for it? But Dominique failed to show up, as well.”

“She had an emergency at Aunt Fleur’s,” Lucy informs. “What about the Scamander twins?”

Roxanne clears her throat. “I’m sure they had somewhere to be.”

Scorpius suddenly realizes all the disappearances. 

Because of him.

He regrets ever coming.

“Well, we can just order some — ” Frank gets cut off.

“I wonder where _Al_ is,” Rose’s voice is mocking.

Molly II turns stern. “Rose.”

“What?” she asks, innocently. “James and Lily, as well, they’re all gone. I wonder why — ”

“Lily had dismissed herself an hour before I invited Scorpius, so sod it, Rose,” Roxanne snarls. “And James is working extra hours for credits, Frank knows that — ” Frank nods, rapidly “ — and _Al_ is still with Aunt Ginny in Africa, surely _you_ know that, Rose.”

Rose turns a bright red before sighing and excusing herself to the restroom.

It’s quiet before Lucy breaks out in tears. “Oh, Scorp! I’ve missed you so much! And — And I’m sorry for whatever stupid thing Al did — And — And — ”

Scorpius’ eyes widen, comically, and he stutters, “Oh, shit — I mean, Lucy you never — Oh, _stop crying_ , please.”

Roxy gives a sound that seems mysteriously like a stifled laugh, and Scorpius sends her a glare before walking over to Lucy and hugging her.

Then _Fred_ starts crying. 

“Oh, Scorpius! W-Why did you leave us?!” he cries. “Dom couldn't even come because — because she misses you so much!”

Scorpius quickly wraps his other arm around Fred, and looks helplessly to the other people around the table. Frank looks very helpless as well, Remus and Anne are attempting a conversation, Louis seems to be very uncomfortable, and Roxanne and Molly II are giggling.

Slowly, the two stop crying. They give him wet kisses on his cheeks, and Scorpius mentally cringes, but then they stop crying.

Rose comes back out, seeming to have red and puffy eyes as well. “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lucy sniffs. Then smiles, watery. “Nice to have Scorp back, that’s all.”

Rose scrunches up her nose, and Scorpius almost laughs because he hadn't seen the act in so long. Rose gives him a small glance. “Yeah. Suppose.”

Scorpius grins.

She shoves him as she passes to get to her seat. “Oh, shut up, you.”

Fred laughs, and then orders everyone a beginner drink of butterbeer — Scorpius is instantly reminded of school. 

The night changes and they are all getting along quite well — still a bit rocky with Rose and him, but good, nonetheless. Can’t expect much from it, he reminds himself. Because although he and Albus Severus were best friends, you hardly saw Rose not included in their adventures at Hogwarts. She probably got the worst end of the deal when…

Scorpius chugs down his butterbeer.

“Hopefully the others _can_ come next time,” Scorpius voices.

The others agree, enthusiastically, and Roxy sends him a glance. “Next time?” she whispers.

He flushes, and she smiles.

It was all pretty great, and Scorpius can't remember a time in the last two years that he was this happy. Maybe even the last seven.

Then it all goes downhill.

“Al!” Rose exclaims, jumping out of her seat and running towards the door.

The laughter and talking silences immediately, and Scorpius stiffens, stiff as a stone.

Frank let's out a high-pitched, startling noise, and Scorpius would’ve laughed if he was in a different situation, where he _didn’t_ have to face his former best friend.

Roxanne stands, her expression still calm. “Al! Though you were still in Africa with Aunt Ginny!”

Scorpius can’t — _won’t_ look up as he hears footfalls.

He can pinpoint exactly when _he_ sees him. His voice starts as a painstakingly familiar noise of delight — Scorpius’ heart, without permission, swells. “Yeah, well, Mum thought it’d be nice to get here before — Roxy.”

His tone sounds hurt.

Roxanne shifts on her feet. “Al?”

Scorpius swallows. He doesn't dare look up. He suspects his signature Malfoy hair is enough to give away who he is.

 _I want my dad,_ he screams internally to himself, sounding like a child, but not caring.

He feels those deep, intent, _dark_ green eyes burning holes into his head, and he wishes he was like Teddy and change his face, change his identity, change this _situation_.

“Well,” Louis’ smooth voice seems unusually shaky, “maybe we could get another chair? Want a finger of fire-whiskey, Al?”

“I want to know — ” Albus’ voice is deeper than Scorpius last heard. It’s taunting “ — what _he’_ s doing here.”

“He was all of _our_ friends, as well, Al, if you don’t remember,” Roxanne hisses. Even after seven years, Scorpius knows that that isn't the right thing to say to a pissed-off Albus.

He snorts, his voice teetering on calm and murderous. “Thought that was ruined when he left us.”

Scorpius’ head snaps up. Immediately, their eyes catch.

Green to grey, sending delicious chills up and down his spine.

But he couldn't have heard that right. _Scorpius_ left _them?_ No, Scorpius would _never._ It was all Albus.

But his words caught in his throat. Albus had broader shoulders, even more so then when he was seventeen. He was always a late bloomer, and his height was now nearly the same as Scorpius’. He cut his hair, it was shorter on the sides, longer on the top, and pulled back in a man bun like his father’s was when Scorpius first met him. He was tanner than normal, most likely because of Africa, and his — Merlin, his _eyes_ were so green against his features. Pronounced cheekbones, sharp jaw, light stubble.

Scorpius wonders when his childhood best friend became a man.

Albus’ gaze was cold and unflinching. “Hello, Malfoy.”

Scorpius’ heart drops to the tips of his toes.

“Potter,” he responds, his tone coming out impassive as his father taught him. 

He wonders if his eyes give away how vulnerable he is.

Apparently not, or Albus became a sadist, because Albus simply sits, and looks to Frank. “How’s James? I didn’t get to see him before I came here.”

The conversation was tense, the laughter was minimal, and Scorpius and Albus never spoke to each other. Rose seemed even more upset than before and was the first to leave.

“Oh, but what about the Full Cauldron?” Anne had called after her.

“You can go without me,” Rose responded, stiffly, before leaving.

Roxanne grumbled about something before speaking coherently. “Let’s go, shall we?”

As everyone paid and was gathering themselves to leave, Scorpius pulled on Roxanne’s arm. 

“What, Scorpy?” she asks in a falsely bright tone.

Scorpius glared. “I’m not going.”

She frowns. “Because of _him_? You're gonna give in because _he_ made you? Wow, mate, didn't think that was the Scorpius Malfoy _I_ kn — ”

“I’ll be at the bar the entire time,” Scorpius growled before grabbing his cloak and getting ready to leave.

Roxanne approached the table. “Perfect! You all up for walking? It’s just around the bend in Kenner's Village.”

Albus eyed her. “Kenner's Village?”

“Oh, they got rid of the ghoul problem centuries ago, Al,” she assures him. She smirks. “I was on the case. ‘Member, Scorp? And you had to make that report to — ”

She trailed off because at the mention of Scorpius, Albus had never seemed so interested in the table’s design all night.

—————

_I want my father. I want my father. I want my father. I want my father…_

These are the exact thoughts on Scorpius’s mind as he stares, disbelievingly, at Albus Severus Potter’s face.

“Don’t understand?”

His voice sounds trembling, and he berates himself, silently.

“Scorpy,” Roxanne warns but looks a bit scared for once.

Albus ignores her. “Yeah, I don’t think you do.”

_"You probably don’t understand what it feels like. Betrayal, you know."_

Scorpius feels his temper heighten, feels his face flush. “You wouldn't know what I understand and what I don’t.” His voice is a tone he hasn't heard in a while.

But Albus doesn't flinch. “I think I do. Malfoy.”

Frank sets a hand on Albus’ shoulder. He chuckles, but it sounds so nervous he instantly stops. “Come off it, mate.”

“We should've Apparated,” Louis whispers, not so helpfully, to Roxanne.

“Yeah, come off it, Potter,” Scorpius says, and his face is red, not from the autumn bite. “Just shove off, okay?”

But Albus simply steps forward. “Make me.”

“Fuck, come on, guys!” Remus calls. “No need to make each other do anything, or shove anyone anywhere,” he jokes. Anne shakes her head.

Scorpius steps closer. “You don’t know what I’ve been through — ”

“And you don't _care_ what I’ve been through,” Albus cuts him off. Scorpius’ eyes bulge.

“Bullshit,” he whispers, eyes searching Albus’ face. Albus’ green ones do the same.

“Scorpius,” Roxanne says, sharply. “Stop.”

“Can’t you see we’re settling our differences, Roxy?” Albus remarks, not looking away from Scorpius. “This is for the best.”

“Someone'll get hurt,” Lucy squeals. “Please stop, Alby.”

“Luce, we both know someone’s bound to get hurt. Physically, though, since apparently I can’t feel emotional pain,” Scorpius responds for Albus. “Git.”

“Tosser,” Albus says swiftly.

“This isn't the schoolyard,” Molly calls. “Come on, guys. Not now. Not here.”

The two former best friends stare at each other, eyes blazing. 

“Yeah, Scorp,” Albus says, voice tilted. “Not here.”

Scorpius’ bones chill at the nickname. Then he Apparates.

—————

Scorpius halfway expects the Shrieking Shack to be covered in snow.

That’s how it always was when he and Albus would trek their way there, with bottles of butterbeer, and fluffy blankets. Where they’d run along the halls, pretending to be the Marauders, the heroes Scorpius heard about from Albus who heard about them from his father. 

All alone, never taking James, or Lily, or Zeke, or Remus, not even Rose, just… _them._

And Albus stands in front of him.

“What do you want?” Scorpius says, voice hoarse, and the trees rustle, orange and brown leaves falling from them.

“What do _you_ want, Malfoy?” Albus asks, green eyes blazing bright. “You disappear for seven years, then pop right back up. Wanna place in the family again? Want connections you can't reach with money?”

Scorpius sees red. “Roxanne invited me — ”

“Roxanne,” Albus chuckles, “likes charity.”

“Fuck you, Potter,” Scorpius’ voice almost cracks.

“Ooh, not very friendly. Think you could ditch us then just come waltzing back in?” Albus asks.

“I didn’t ditch _anyone,_ ” Scorpius hisses, pacing, but keeping eye contact.

“You did, though,” Albus replies, “after… You did.”

“No,” Scorpius shakes his head, “you left me.”

Albus’ eyes bulge. Scorpius watches as his entire cold exterior drops. He let's out a high-pitched laugh that Scorpius hates.

“I would never, Scorpius,” Albus’ eyes glitter as the moon hits his profile. “I’d never — _never_. Not after — ” He looks away.

But Scorpius isn't done with being angry. “After what?! What do you have to say?! What's your excuse — ”

“Scorpius, your mum died,” Albus’ voice is small. “I — She was amazing, and she loved you, and I’d never leave you after that.”

Scorpius stumbles back. “What does my mum — my mum’s death have to do with this?”

Albus then turns fiercer than before. “Everything. Every bloody thing.”

Scorpius blinks and swallows. “No… No, _I’ve_ nothing to do with this. You — You’re the one who stopped... Stopped talking to me…”

But Scorpius had avoided this train of thought for six years, and the more he said of it, the more it sounded wrong. He blinks some more.

“Bullshit, Scorpius! You — ” Albus eyes him. “After Astoria passed away, and the initial grievances... you just… You acted so fine, so I thought you were, everyone thought…”

Scorpius then shook his head, chasing away those crazy thoughts. No, this was all Albus’ fault. Albus’ own irresponsibility.

“It’s yours, Albus Severus! Your fault! I — I tried, and — ” he choked. “And _you_ promised forever.”

Then Albus turned grave. Certain. _Determined._

“No, you did, Scorpius. Think about it. Remember it. _You_ promised forever, _you_ said always, _you_ — Don’t,” Albus shut his eyes. Then opens them, defeat across his face. “Fuck, just try to remember then leave me the fuck alone. Ask your father or some shit. Get a Memory Potion, do _anything,_ because you’re nothing to me but I don't want you thinking you’re a victim. Just… Remember.”

Scorpius blinks at him, rapidly. “Al — ” Albus Apparated.

Slowly and teasingly, rain starts falling, drenching Scorpius. He hears it hit the ground, each drop, splashing into millions of others, and he blinks, again. He leaves.

He doesn't count how many drinks he has at Hog’s Head and doesn't consider the grime at the bottom of his goblet when each is finished.

Scorpius stumbles into his flat, leaving puddles of rainwater everywhere. 

He wants to sleep, wants to just fall asleep at the time of three-thirty in the morning, but he can’t stay here. _Roxanne will come here._

He writes a wet note for her and throws it on the coffee table. He Apparates.

“Klinky!” He calls as soon as he lands in the empty foyer of the Malfoy Manor.

No elf appears. 

It clicks, then he kicks the drawer. “ _Stupid_! _Fucking!_ _Weasleys_! Never help _anything_!”

He climbs up the stairs, almost falling, and throws open his bedroom door. 

It seems so dark.

He stumbles across his room, shoving off the wet clothes he wears. He feels a stinging at the back of his eyes.

The hallway light flickers on.

“Scorpius?” his voice rings.

Scorpius gasps at the noise then laughs. Laughs so hard his stomach hurts. He thinks he’s going insane.

“Scorpius,” his father appears in the doorway, expression unreadable in Scorpius’ blurred vision.

“Father,” Scorpius replies, sardonically, and curtseying. 

Draco’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you drunk?”

“I’ve no idea,” Scorpius snorts, shrugging off his trousers. “Probably drunk on depression.”

Draco approaches him, slowly. Scorpius lets himself be dragged into bed. “What’s wrong, Scorpius?”

Scorpius falls back with a thud. “Everything, old man.”

His eyes close before Draco can reply.

—————

Scorpius’ nerves slide off of his body in tenfold underneath the warm pour of the shower.

He closes his eyes, tightly, breathing slowly as the magicked water soothes him. He inhales. Exhales.

Klinky had bounded in this morning, eyes wide and nearly sobbing. “Oh, Klinky shouldn't've left! Master Draco is very worried for Master Scorpius, very worried indeed, and Klinky can see why! Master Scorpius, what’s wrong?!”

Scorpius groaned, flipping on his stomach, his face buried in his fluffy, white pillow. 

Klinky hadn’t caught the hint, yet, and continued talking. “Never mind that, Master Scorpius! Come on, you need to get up now! We have a nice, blue potion to take away that bad head pain,” he added, in a sing-song voice.

He then proceeded to shove Scorpius toward his en suite, before running off to Draco. Scorpius, burning headache gone, sighed in relief when the high-pitched voice left his ear drums.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Ex —

_“You disappear for seven years, then pop right back up. Wanna place in the family again? Want connections you can't reach with money?”_

What connections? Familial ones? He has his father, had aunt Daphne and her spoilt kids, his Uncle and Aunt Zabini, Aunt Pansy, and whoever she was married to… he had… he had Klinky!

He calms down, then let's the water drum against his back. Okay, it’s all fine. He won’t talk to _him_ ever again. He’ll avoid Roxanne — Frank — Rose from her position under her mother, whatever she did… He’d avoid anyone with any relationship to the Weasleys. Except for Teddy, but he doesn't count, that’s his cousin. 

He nods, firmly, to himself. He catches an old song in the back of his mind, and hums along to it — blocks out whatever else is in his mind.

“Eat half a dragon heart, plunge in a pool of Stinksap for you…” he hums, the words terribly and incorrectly sung, under his breath. He allows his eyes to close again as he cards his shampoo covered hands through his hair. “Jump over a thousand Thestrals — or something like that — for you…”

 _“Think about it. Remember it._ You _promised forever,_ you _said always,_ you _—”_

His eyes flash open.

Okay, what in the _hell_ did that mean?! Remember what, exactly?! Scorpius remembers school quite clearly. And he can remember…

Scorpius sets his pale forehead against the stark white, tiled shower wall. He closes his eyes, one more time, tight, and tries to remember.

_His head burns, and he watches as the blood trickles from his nose down to the Quidditch locker room floor, mixing with the water, and flowing down the drain. He wants to open his eyes, but one is almost glued shut with thick, sticky blood. He wants to groan, but he can’t bear to make a sound. He wants help. He wants —_

_“Scorpius!” cries Albus Severus Potter as he throws the Quidditch locker room door open. His eyes immediately catch onto a beaten up Scorpius, and he races to him. Scorpius wonders if this is what it feels like to be the Snitch that Albus chases after in the matches._

_The green-eyed boy falls to his knees in front of Scorpius, cups his head, and takes out his wand. Scorpius gives a weak smile. “Hey, Al.” His voice is so hoarse that it doesn't sound like his own. Albus winces._

_“Shh,” he shushes the blonde boy. “I need to check on you.”_

_As Albus waves his wand around Scorpius’ head, Scorpius manages a mischievous grin. “Good thing my best mate is gonna become Head Healer at St. Mungo’s.”_

_Albus attempts a grin back, but fails and instead his eyes just flood with tears. He taps Scorpius’ left, closed eye with the tip of his wand, and Scorpius’ vision comes back, somewhat blurry._

_The blonde grins, again. “Can’t you just do_ Episkey _?”_

_“We both know you’re better at casting that than me,” Albus says, almost dismissively._

_“Ah,” Scorpius nods, still smiling._

_“_ Scourgify _,” Albus manages out, and the blood vanishes from the side of Scorpius’ head. It doesn't take away the dizziness or the pounding, but Scorpius and Albus both know that should be left with the experienced Madame Pomfrey._

_Scorpius adjusts himself so he can sit against the wall, and Albus doesn't stop him, but does slide next to him, allowing Scorpius to use him as a weight to sit upon. Albus chokes. “Pomfrey and McGonagall are coming soon. I told them before I left.”_

_Scorpius leans his head against his best friend’s shoulder. “That’s good.”_

_“No,” Albus Severus snaps, eyes flashing. “It isn't. None of this is good. We don’t even… They can’t even figure out who’s attacking you. You’re getting hurt every two weeks, for Merlin’s sake, near_ death. _I — ”_

_“I am fine, Albus Severus,” Scorpius smiles into his shoulder. “As long as you’re here, I always will be.”_

_Albus looks at him. He searches the grey eyes with a certain thirst for something that Scorpius can’t place. “Promise?”_

_Scorpius straightens his back, brushing off Albus’ helping hand. “Albus, you will_ always _be my best friend. My best mate. My… Damn near my_ life, _Al. We’ll always be together. Who’s ever heard of time without Scorpius and Albus, best friends and adventurers?”_

_Albus let's out a watery little laugh that lightens the pain in Scorpius’ head. Albus’ dark, thick eyebrows unclench and his lips twitch into a brilliant smile. “Yeah. Forever.”_

Scorpius starts, nearly slipping onto his backside from the wet shower floor. He blinks, rapidly.

The former Slytherin stumbles out of the shower, the water shutting off, automatically, and he grips the counter of the sink, butt-naked. He stares at himself in the mirror.

His mother was murdered by an eighteen-year-old boy who was the descendent of a Death Eater. His grandfather. This boy's father had given up Lord Voldemort’s views, renewed himself for his family, but his son had sharply disagreed and had turned against him. He’s a year older than Scorpius. His name is Reno. Scorpius hates him. Scorpius is afraid of him. Draco is, too.

Reno, before being sentenced for life in Azkaban, had his little brothers Kai and Kyler under the Imperius curse when they attended Hogwarts as sixth years for the better part of Scorpius’ seventh year. He had led seven attacks — three of which were life-threatening — on Scorpius when he was in command of his two siblings — who had no idea what they were doing and can hardly remember their sixth year. His grandfather had suffered harshly under the faults of Lucius Malfoy, Scorpius’ hated grandfather, and Reno had chosen the Malfoys to attack first for these reasons.

He killed Scorpius’ mother when his father had went to France to visit Scorpius’ grandmother. Scorpius was at Hogwarts. Astoria Malfoy was alone and she had decided to drop by Diagon’s Alley. She was led to Knockturn Alley where her body was mutilated and her blood read on the dirty walls: “BLOOD TRAITORS AND COWARDS”. Scorpius hates Knockturn Alley.

Head Auror Harry Potter had led the case in finding her murderer, which only took three days. Harry was close to Scorpius and Draco, he was close to Astoria. He was angered. He nearly killed Reno when he found him. 

Scorpius remembers getting escorted to Headmistress McGonagall’s office, completely unaware that his mother died a few hours earlier. He remembers Ginny Potter being there because his father couldn’t bear it, and Harry was helping him. Scorpius remembers hating them all, and he remembers not crying. Not a single tear.

But now… Now Scorpius remembers clearly, oh so very clearly. He remembers being saved by the messy-haired boy. He remembers being so happy even though he was in the hospital wing every other week with no explanation since his best mate was right next to him. He remembers that the only reason his parents allowed him to stay at Hogwarts was that _he_ was there, and they knew _he’d_ protect Scorpius. He remembers crying in _his_ chest and crying harder when _his_ father had found Reno. He remembers going home for a month, getting visited from _him_ when he wasn’t supposed to be getting visited, and crying some more. 

He remembers… Well…

 _No_ , he scolds himself. _No, I didn't. We were best friends, that was all. I didn’t —_

Scorpius wraps a towel around his waist and shoves the washroom door open.

He needs more answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so curse-breakers are honestly not ministry jobs, but i think the plot works best with scorpius having this occupation? so ignore canon for the duration of this fic please and thanks <3 also this is a very flimsy plot, but considering that i wrote it when i was very young, please cut me another break <3333
> 
> anyways, kudos, bookmarks, and COMMENTS are definitely appreciated :)


	2. the memories

_Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell._

_Edna St. Vincent Millay_

**PART II**

_Scorpius,_

_I have allowed you to sulk in your bedroom for the weekend, I have owled in ill for you at your work for the next two days, I have only sent Klinky to you, and I have sent back all the owls you’ve ignored from the insistent Weasley girl with dismissive letters._

_Tonight you will join me in a Sunday dinner, then for tea after, where you will explain everything since I have_ done _everything without a single word from you. No further complaints or questions. It’s an order._

_You’re worrying me, you little shit,_

_Your (Apparent) Doormat Father_

Scorpius snorts at the letter that Klinky threw at him before vanishing. He might’ve been worried about what his dad wrote to Roxy, but he decides against it. His dad is professional enough, and Roxanne will enjoy any dry humor that his father wrote. He allows a small smile to grace his lips. 

He didn’t get any sleep last night. He just kept going over all the memories he’s repressed. The old but fresh memories. The painful but delightful memories.

He wonders why he left Albus. He knows he did, he can _feel_ it, but he can’t remember _why_. 

He has one memory, though, that he supposes he can renew tonight. One that his father can help him with.

He closes his eyes.

_“Scorpius.”_

_He opens his eyes, staring into round, green ones._

_“Scorpius…” Albus Severus’ voice wavers on worried and upset._

_“Sorry, Al, just a bit zoned.” His tone is impassive, and it comes out rude, so he quickly stands and takes down his chest from the train compartment._

_Albus gnaws on his lip. “Yeah? Well, uh… Guess this is it, huh? Like… Like first year all over again, but it’s our last.”_

_Scorpius sends him a haste, lame smile, and grabs his cloak. “Guess so.”_

_Albus stays quiet, as he waits for Scorpius to gather his things together._

_“The others wanted to see you off, Scorp,” he says, gently, as they make their way out of the train. “Lucy was crying because it’s our last — ”_

_“I’m sure I’ll see them all in the future. For now, I want to get to my dad.” Scorpius doesn't spare Al a glance. Albus swallows, audibly._

_They navigate through the full crowds, and Albus smiles at people who send their farewells, while Scorpius pointedly ignores them. Albus grows a harsh frown on his face._

_Scorpius curses under his breath when they see their parents. Harry and Ginny Potter stand, visible distance between them, as they talk to a healthier-looking Draco Malfoy. Lily Potter stands close by, sharing a few words with Louis Weasley. James Sirius cranes his neck over the masses and brightens when he sees Scorpius and Albus. He waves over grandly, grinning like a fool._

_Albus laughs, and Scorpius does the same fake smile._

_His mother is supposed to be there, holding hands with Albus’ mum and searching frantically for their combined four children. They'd giggle and gossip with each other, ignoring their husbands. Albus’ and Scorpius’ dads would be bickering, fondly, and always seem to have some sort of prize for their competitions._

_But that was_ before.

_“...I think Scorpius and I might just take you up on that offer, Mrs. Potter,” Draco’s drawl sounds, and Scorpius flinches when it comes out smoothly — no longer is his father trembling from sobs for Astoria._

_“That’d be great — oh, Al! Scorp!” Ginny Potter exclaims, rushing towards the two boys, James, and their fathers shortly on her heels._

_Ginny does the same thing as usual as if nothing has changed, and Scorpius wonders if he hates her for it or if he’s more grateful than anything in the world._

_“Squirts.” James squints at Scorpius. “Shit, you got taller. Al, this is embarrassing. Why are you so short?”_

_“Got it from his father,” Draco said, smirking._

_Harry shoulders him. “Shut it. Not my fault you and Scorp are so tall.” He winks at Scorpius, who gives another fake smile back. Harry frowns at it._

_“Anyways, Scorpius, the Potters invited us to… What did you call it, Potter?” Draco asks._

_“Potter Pig Out,” Harry grins at the blonde man._

_Draco crinkles his nose. “Ginevra, please say_ you _didn’t think of that awful name?”_

_“Oi! It was me!” James exclaims, looking highly offended._

_Draco suppresses a grin. “Yes, well you can’t expect_ all _of the children to get their mother’s wit.”_

_Ginny and Albus laugh, and Harry and James huff, looking thoroughly betrayed. Scorpius looks to his father._

_“We ought to go now, shan’t we, dad?”_

_Draco blinks at his son, rapidly. “Uh… Yes. I suppose we should.”_

_Scorpius always wants to stay longer. Draco always has to pull him by the ear to Apparate home._

_Albus frowns, then shakes his head, chuckling. “Scorp, what about the others?”_

_Scorpius’ jaw clenches for the tiniest moment. “I’ll owl you all. We’re bound to meet soon.”_

_Draco stares at his son._

_Albus, looking very hesitant, nods, slowly. “Okay, well… Yeah, I’ll write you.”_

_Scorpius nods, then look to Ginny and Harry, who look beyond bewildered. “I’ll see you soon, as well, hopefully.”_

_They nod, like their son, Ginny gives him a short hug and Harry gives him a friendly pat on the back. Scorpius internally winces._

_“Bye, James, Lily,” he says, waving at the two siblings. He looks to his father who blinks, then they start away from the famous Potter family._

_They’re nearly across the entire station when Albus’ voice is heard calling: “Scorp! Scorpius! Scorpius!”_

_Draco looks at him in the corner of his eye, but Scorpius ignores him, and Albus Potter. He knows that they forgot their “annual” hug. He just doesn't care._

_Or maybe he cares too much._

_Once they exit King’s Cross and get to a safe Apparition spot, Scorpius lays a hand on his father’s arm._

_“I don’t want to go,” he says suddenly, after a few moments of silence. “To the… Pig Out.” Draco closes his eyes, slowly._

_His voice almost sounds reluctant. “Then we won’t.”_

Scorpius gnaws on his lower lip before jumping out of bed.

He doesn’t bother to change from his Muggle sweats and baggy T-shirt as he descends the stairs for dinner. He drags himself to the dining quarters.

After Astoria passed, he and his father freed their other nine house-elves. The nine house-elves left without complaint, most of them with enough gold in their pockets to live a comfortable life. Most elves nowadays drifted through families, not many becoming so attached. Draco and Scorpius wanted to free all of them, start over, but Klinky was very traditional compared to modern house-elves, and insisted on staying, eventually guilt-tripping them into keeping him. Yesterday at dinner, Klinky had tapped his nose twice and told him that he and Draco needed him and that they would be lost without him, not unkindly.

Draco’s face scrunched in distaste as his son walked in. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you change into something a _tad_ formal?”

“Why, because Klinky was just elected Minister of Magic?” Scorpius sasses, then winces, grunting. “Sorry. Still a bit… off.”

Draco looks amused. “I can tell.”

Scorpius slides into the chair next to his father, ignoring the twenty others. He used to sit across from his mother, while his father was always at the head. When the Potters would come over (and they did so _often_ ), they ignored the opposite end of the grand table as well, settling in as close to the Malfoys as possible. The few times that the Granger-Weasleys joined, as well, they did the same — and when the entire Weasley family came... 

The Malfoys had been so happy that night.

Scorpius’s father once told him that when he was younger, he had to sit on one end while his mother and father would be on the other. When guests were over, he was always pushed next to his mother, or worse, at a children’s table. Scorpius often wished that his father didn't have to grow up in the conditions he did. (And that makes his head throb as he imagines an upset Albus Potter who loves his own father just as much as Scorpius loves his.)

Draco pipes up and starts talking about the estate’s west wing’s condition. Scorpius just eats the food that Klinky presented, quietly, and gives his input when needed. Klinky is offered to eat with them, like always, but states that he prefers to eat in his own chambers alone, like always.

They finish their meals before going to the parlor. Then Draco turned to Scorpius, teacup resting on palm instead of a saucer as he does in private when not attempting to appear formal. He looks at Scorpius, demanding expression fit across his features. “So, what happened?”

Scorpius shifts in his seat, staring at his tea as he swirls his spoon. “I — Well…”

Then he vents. He tells his patient father about Roxy, and Rose, and Frank, and the Patronus catastrophe. He blurts out what Rose said about the Potters, and he stutters about Albus’s reappearance. He complains about the awkward drinks and the beginning of their walk to the Full Cauldron. He winces through the entire argument at the Shrieking Shack. And he internally breaks down after speaking swiftly about his repression. That, finally, catches Draco’s attention.

“What do you mean — you _forgot_?” Draco asks.

“I forgot, simple as that,” Scorpius sniffs. Then he catches his father’s eye, and realizes his mistake. “Not about _mum_! No, never about _mum._ Just about… The _end_ of my friendship with Albus.”

Draco blinks, rapidly, and licks his lips, quickly. “Well, er — that’s strange, in the very least.”

“Tell me about it,” Scorpius snorts, then narrows his eyes. “Oi, why didn’t _you_ tell me about how I — how I — ”

“Randomly started avoiding the Potters?” Draco talks like he’s measuring every word. “It was — Well, taboo… Do you really not remember all of it?”

Scorpius leans forward, eyes hungry. “No, not really. Do you reckon you know why I started avoiding Al? I mean, I repressed it because of mum’s death, but… That doesn't explain the sudden... indifference towards my best friend.”

Draco stands swiftly, walking towards the fireplace and setting flame to the awaiting logs. He breathes, heavily.

“Scorpius… Think,” he says, softly, “Remember. Your emotions, not just your actions and words, but your emotions. Feelings.”

Scorpius’s jaw clenches, and he shuts his eyes briefly before opening them. “That’s not true.”

Draco spins to look at him, eyebrow arched. “It is, Scorpius. You were in love with him. And you were scared — ”

Scorpius bolts up, not facing his father. “No! We were just… Just best friends, and all. Maybe I was scared, but because — because of _mum,_ not Albus being — ”

“It wasn't your Mum, love, you already stated that, quite certainly.” Draco’s tone is gentle, paternal now. 

“I wouldn’t — no,” Scorpius denies, shaking his head back and forth.

“Scorpius, don’t you…”

“Yes, I remember, dad!” Scorpius spins. “But — But how could I be so _stupid,_ and fall in love with my _best friend_ — ”

“You weren't being stupid, Scorpius,” Draco says, voice sharp. “Your — How you feel is _never_ stupid, Scorpius. Remember that Albus Severus had snuck over to the Manor after your — mum passed away, despite the detentions he kept receiving. Remember that every adventure you had at Hogwarts, you had with him. Remember that you were with him 24/7 for the better part of seven years. For Merlin’s sake, Scorp, it’d be hard _not_ to fall in love with a bloke like Al, after how much you two went through!”

Scorpius feels his heart swell at his father's encouraging words, then it all dissipates. “But — So, I fell in love with him, and I avoided him for it, but… Why would I do that? I… I’m _weak_ for it.”

“Scorpius,” his father mutters, fondly. “You lost your mum. Then you found out you loved your famous best friend _romantically_. You wanted to get away from it all. You jumped into work. You _repressed_ it. It wasn’t at all long term better for you, but at the moment it was the easiest, and I’d be damned if I said I haven’t chosen the easy route at some point or another.”

Draco laughs, and Scorpius feels his own grin take over his features. Draco strides over, sliding an arm over his son’s shoulders. “No worries, okay, son?”

Scorpius nods, slightly leaning into his father’s cold warmth.

“Potters,” his father mumbles. “They’ll be the death of us Malfoys.”

Scorpius smiles wider, then hesitates before speaking. “Uh… Dad? Did he ever… I mean, did he ever come over to see me? I can't really… remember…”

Draco’s arm stiffens. He exhales, slowly. “Do you… Remember the owls?”

Scorpius glances at him. “Er… No, not really, sorry.”

Draco gradually eases off of him, and navigates back towards the fireplace, the orange flame catching onto the end of his white-blond hair. He sighs. He looks at Scorpius. “Don’t think… Whatever you see, it’s not what you think, okay?”

Scorpius slowly nods. “Dad — ”

“I owe him, that’s all,” Draco murmurs, eyes glazed. He shakes his head. “Klinky!”

“Masters?” Klinky appears. 

“Fetch the Pensieve, would you?” he asks, absently. 

“‘Course, sir.” Klinky winks at Scorpius before disappearing and reappearing with the round basin.

“Thanks, Klinky,” Draco says before the elf Disapparates.

His father sets it down on the parlor’s table, beckoning Scorpius closer. Scorpius obeys, looking at his father curiously.

Draco sighs before bringing his wand to his head, elegantly taking out two strands of wispy white from it. He smiles, tiredly, at Scorpius. 

He speaks, hesitantly. “This is from after your seventh year.” He drops one memory in, and slides the bowl closer to Scorpius with his wand.

Scorpius blinks, but then leans toward the bowl, immediately falling into the past. He lands on the soft couch in the same parlor. Beside him, another version of him sits — but this one is disheveled; rough-looking, his face shows evident signs of sleep deprivation and out of all his recovered memories he’s never seen himself so thin.

Abruptly, his father storms in, and Scorpius calls, “Dad, when was this?” 

He doesn’t receive an answer and that’s when he realized that this is his _Memory_ Father, not his actual one, much to his embarrassment.

“Well?” Memory-Draco demands, grey eyes flashing in an anger that Scorpius hasn’t seen in years. “Explain!”

Memory-Scorpius seems to be studying his wand as if it’s something he’s never seen before — not for a distraction or embarrassment, Scorpius notices, but because of his clear boredom. Scorpius doesn't quite remember being that much of an asshole to his father.

“What?” Memory-Scorpius drawls, much like his father. 

Memory-Draco huffs. “When did you become so impolite, Scorpius? When did you become so — so _rude?_ ”

Memory-Scorpius shrugs, dismissively. “What do you want, Father,” he asks, shortly.

“An answer to why you aren’t responding to _these_!” With a grand wave of his arm, a large box of letters come flying in. Memory-Draco exhales. “From Albus, from Rose, from James, from Lily, from Ginevra, from Harry Potter _himself_ , from Hugo, from — ”

Memory-Scorpius stands, suddenly, and hisses. “I don’t need a list of the Weasley family members, thank you very much, Father.”

“Oh, you won’t need one,” he replies, dryly. “Because most of them sent only one or two — but not _Albus Severus,_ no sir; you’ve gotten over _thirty_ from him, Scorpius. From your _best friend_ — ”

“He’s not my best friend,” Memory-Scorpius says, quickly.

“Really?” his father says, voice full of suspicion. “Just seven years and a handful of dangerous experiences does not mean — ”

“ _I_ _’m cutting off ties with him_ ,” Memory-Scorpius says coldly. “Obviously. I’ve even made sure he can’t Apparate or Floo — ”

“Yeah, he’s getting hurt because of that, if it’s any comfort,” interjects Memory-Draco. "He keeps trying and he keeps getting _hurt_."

“I’ve witnessed his and his cousin's attempts,” Memory-Scorpius responds, stiffly, after a beat.

“My dear boy, then put him out of his _misery_!” Memory-Draco cries. “Send him an owl! Visit him! Don’t just ignore him until he goes away, because let me tell you — Potters don’t work that way, and — ”

“I know how Potters work, Father!” Memory-Scorpius roars. “I’m not interested in a lecture! I’m not going to speak to Potter ever again, either!”

“Why?!” Memory-Draco shouts back, face red. “You can’t hide from the people who care about you, Scorpius, or you’ll lose them! He helped you through everything — saved your life too many times. And — And I get that your mother’s d-d-death — was hard on you, but you can’t just shut off Albus Severus because of it — ”

Memory-Scorpius laughs, high-pitched and cold, and something about it makes Memory-Draco freeze in fright. 

“This isn’t about mum, Father.” Memory-Scorpius is already walking past his paralyzed father. “It’s because I’m in love with him.”

Scorpius is pulled out of the memory, and he spins to his silent father. “I — ”

“No need to explain yourself, son, it’s fine,” Draco dismisses, a solemn smile on his face. “The things lovesick people do — can make you go mad. Let me show you the next one. But — ” he hesitates “ — know that not only were you in pain, but Mister Potter and I have a history, so… Well, don’t think badly of either of us.”

Scorpius is nudged to the Pensieve, and shortly after he’s falling back into the basin, in the past.

This time he lands in his father’s office. Without the usual fire glowing and baubles that Scorpius and his mother made for him, Scorpius concludes that this was in the two years following his mother’s death. His father had charmed the baubles to levitate when his spouse and son had made them when Scorpius was only six years old. His office was always a homey area — he often said he wanted to shut any memory of the late owner out, and warmth would be exactly what the large study needed. Scorpius had always gone in there when he was cold, and his father never minded as he played with hippogriffs and little war hero dolls. 

(Draco had complained until his wife’s eardrums were soiled when Scorpius had said his Harry Potter doll was his favorite. Even when he was in primary school, he was partial to the Potters.)

Scorpius slides across the room to sit on the comfy armchair by the fire, and watches his father as he works mindlessly at his desk. Features much like his own scrunch up in concentration, and a pink tongue darts out to wet his lips swiftly — a habit Scorpius had picked up, himself, according to Albus from fourth year. His father was cleaning his reading glasses’ lens when he suddenly jerked in surprise.

Scorpius furrowed his eyebrows, but then there was another jump from his dad and Scorpius feels it this time — the unexplainable feeling when someone is trying to penetrate your wards.

Scorpius sat upright in the armchair just as his father stood, glasses skewed. For a fleeting moment, Scorpius worries that the Manor is being breached in current time, but then flushes when he realizes that Memory-Draco wouldn’t be able to feel it, then.

But Scorpius still feels an overwhelming concern for his past father. Must be only a year after his mum’s death, and someone is breaking the incredibly strong enchantments around the Manor? Only an unimaginably powerful wizard could do it, and Scorpius can only wonder what is racing through his father’s mind then.

He also can’t help but be curious about where he himself is. Is he drunk, passed out, upstairs? Is he already working at his Aunt’s newspaper? Or is he out, avoiding Weasley descendants, and sulking to himself?

His thoughts, though, are interrupted by a man stumbling out of the Floo. Memory-Draco already has his wand out, poised at the intruder, but his movements falter as he recognizes the man.

Harry Potter straightens his back, coughing, slightly, as he dusts off his navy blue shirt and black jacket, and spells his Muggle trainers clean. His broad shoulders are hunched, unusual compared to when Scorpius usually sees Harry and his father around each other. His hair is bluntly cut, unlike how Scorpius had seen him that last day at King’s Cross, and his eyes have evident smile wrinkles around them — something he failed to remember, but his father didn’t. His expression shows no sign of teasing competition, though, and Scorpius reckons he isn’t here for a chat and some tea.

He’s here for Albus.

Memory-Draco's Adam's apple bobs as he sets his wand back onto his desk — but his hand lingers, something Scorpius hasn’t seen him do around Harry since his third year. 

“Potter,” he greets, stiffly. 

“Potter? When was the last time you — Never mind that.” Scorpius had never heard Harry’s voice so hollow. “I need to speak to you.”

“You _do_ realize that it is against Wizarding laws to enter someone’s house — much more their private chambers — when they have strictly set enchantments around it?”

Scorpius almost shivers. It’s entirely scary how powerful Harry Potter is. He should _not_ have been able to break down the wards.

“I’m an Auror,” Memory-Harry replies. Scorpius wonders if he’s a little weak or dazed after that magic exertion because that was a sure strange response.

“I don’t remember Aurors being allowed to break into citizen’s houses,” his father replies coolly. “Maybe I need to catch up — ”

“You didn’t come to the Pig Out,” Memory-Harry interrupts, and Scorpius watches as they both visibly gather themselves.

Memory-Draco is quiet for a while. “Well spotted, Potter,” he says at last, quietly.

Memory-Harry scoffs. “Cut the act, Draco. Why didn't you come? You know what? Never mind that, that was just a little gathering — No, I want to know why Scorpius is ignoring Al and the rest of us.”

Scorpius blinks. He’s never heard his father and Harry use their first names with each other, but they spent a while alone together after his mother’s death.

Memory-Draco pulls himself to his full height. “I believe that’s between Scorpius and Albus Severus.”

“Oh, please, even if we weren't both very meddling dads, Al can’t reach Scorpius, anyways,” Memory-Harry says. He adds, “ _I_ could hardly get through.”

“I think that’s because you weren’t supposed to, O’ Chosen One,” Memory-Draco sneers. “But don’t worry, you’ll get away with this, too — ”

“Draco, what’s happened?” Memory-Harry demands. “I won’t believe that Scorpius — sweet, _genuine_ Scorpius Malfoy — just left his best friend without an explanation.”

Scorpius is filled with guilt and shame; Mister Potter had always tried his best to treat him like he was his own person, not just his father’s son, but he ended up disappointing him.

Scorpius wants to explain himself to the man in front of him, but he fears he’s seven years too late.

“Haven't you noticed?” Memory-Draco asks, coldly, but Scorpius has no doubt that Harry had heard the tiredness in his tone. “They’re not exactly best friends anymore, Potter.”

“But it doesn’t happen like that!” Memory-Harry counters, scowl implanted and of pure disbelief. “Not with friends like Scor and Al! They’re — They _were_ inseparable! It’d be like — It’d be like — ”

“What, like you and Granger and Weasley breaking up?” Scorpius can almost _see_ his father searching for a soft spot to hit and make Harry retreat. “Believe it or not, _Head Auror Potter_ , you three had a war to bond over, and guess what? In case you’ve forgotten, Scorpius is a _Malfoy,_ and your spawn is a _Potter_ , and they will _never_ — ”

“Oh, sod it, that hasn’t mattered in years,” Memory-Harry argues, his fight slowly slipping away as he speaks. “I mean — You and I get along just fi — ”

“Watch your tongue, Potter, we’re talking about our children here.”

Memory-Harry turns red, and he looks humiliated. “That’s beside the — Look, we _are_ talking about our children here, but note this: they _aren’t_ children anymore.”

“Yes, exactly. So Potter Spawn Number Two shouldn't have his daddy off fighting his battles for him — ”

“His battles?!” Memory-Harry seems to have lost all denial of the situation and has gone straight to anger. “Your son has failed to answer _any_ of his letters! Nor mine, or Rose’s, or — ”

“I don’t need a list of owners for the owls we’ve been receiving, thank you very much,” Memory-Draco hisses.

“See, there’s no excuse for ignoring our owls when we’ve been nothing but — but — _accepting_!”

Memory-Draco turns impassive. “Yes, very accepting and helpful. So much… _gratitude_ goes toward the Potters for allowing us scum to follow them.”

Memory-Harry’s nostrils flare. “Stop it. We were here for everything, and we never once brought up the past as an — an _insult.”_

“Sure, Potter, whatever helps you sleep your pretty, little head at night,” his father drawls. Scorpius almost admires how his father pushes Harry away. “Scorpius is done with Albus Severus, end of conversation.”

 _“He doesn't_ get _to be!”_ Memory-Harry growls, and Scorpius can’t help but agree. “Al was _always_ there for him! During everything! It’s just changed since…”

“Astoria d-died? Is that what you were going to say? Were you gonna blame her for how Scorpius has been acting?” Draco asks, teeth bared.

“ _Shut it,_ we both know how people behave after deaths, I just — ” Memory-Harry massages his temples, and when he opens his bright green eyes again, the vulnerability is almost a sickening raw. “Al is _torn._ You know how it is to see your son — your _child_ hurt. It hurts you more than — than anything…”

Scorpius watches his father stumble for words, obviously taken aback by Harry’s abrupt behavior change.

Memory-Harry strides over, eyes begging. “Please, Draco, just let Al come over and speak to Scorpius. See if they can just go over it — just go back to how it was… Albus is so _depressed,_ and everything is just _odd,_ and no one is — ”

Scorpius watches his father crumble underneath the other man’s intense stare, and he thinks that this is what Draco didn’t want him to see.

“I don't — I mean, I couldn’t — ” Memory-Draco struggles for words, and Scorpius almost thinks that he spilled the beans right there.

But then the office door opens, and in walks his past self.

“Mister Potter?”

He appears healthier than the last memory. His hair is still uncombed, and his eyes still have dark circles around them, but his cheeks don’t look so skeletal and his body not so underfed. He wears a loose shirt and a pair of odd Wizarding pants.

Memory-Harry spins, and his father winces. Memory-Scorpius blinks.

“Scorpius!” The dark-haired man stares at him.

The other Scorpius looks at his father. “Dad?”

Memory-Draco stiffens and strides past a gaping Potter to his son. “Leave, Potter.”

“Scorpius… Al really misses you…” Memory-Harry splutters. It’s as if he wasn’t expecting Scorpius to be able to move — as if he was expecting Scorpius to never be able to completely shut his best friend out like that without being seriously injured or ill. “We all do… What’s — Why haven’t you been — ?”

Memory-Scorpius cowers in on himself, eyes lingering closed as if he wishes it was all just a dream, a nightmare. “There’s been… I…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Scorpius,” his dad whispers to him, but Scorpius knows that his past self _does_ have to, and he will, too.

“Scorpius, please, just — ”

“Potter, leave!” Memory-Draco shouts. “You — your family, none of you are welcome here, so just _leave_!”

“Why?” Memory-Harry argues. “Just… We can help, Scorpius. We can… Can be here? For you guys, whatever you need, Draco, you _know_ that…”

“Please just go,” Memory-Scorpius chokes, as his father shakes.

Scorpius berates himself; the pure emotion on his father’s face shows how much he wants Mister Potter to be there, to be his support, to be his _friend_.

And Scorpius took it all away.

“You… You don’t want that, Scor,” Memory-Harry tries. “I mean — Remember Al and you? All of your — your adventures at Hogwarts? And… And your detentions that Al always talks about…”

“I no longer want any connection to Albus Potter,” Memory-Scorpius states, blandly, and Scorpius feels as if he could break down and cry, right in his father’s memory.

“That’s…” Memory-Harry blinks at him, looking dumb but Scorpius can understand. “That’s insane! That's — ”

“ — my final decision. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Scorpius turns and walks out of the office but not before calling over his shoulder, “Night, Mister Potter!”

The disrespectful tone is enough for Memory-Draco to jerk out of his daze and look as if he was going to yell at Scorpius before remembering the situation. He swallows. “Goodbye, Potter. Tell Albus to stop sending the owls, please.”

Memory-Harry stands there, fixated on where Memory-Scorpius had stormed out of the room. 

“Harry!” Memory-Draco snaps, eyes pleading. “ _Leave._ ”

Scorpius is pulled out of the memory, and he blinks at his father, who sits on the other side of the room, by the fireplace. Scorpius straightens his back and walks over.

“That was the last time I’ve talked to him, personally,” his father says at last. “I had to at a Ministry function, and at some gala that your wretched Aunt Daphne hosted, but… Other than that, I’ve mostly avoided Harry Potter.”

Scorpius throat is dry. “Did you… What were…”

“We were very close, Potter and I,” his dad explains. “But not… I mean, you and Al kind of forced us to be acquaintances, and from that stemmed the best friendship I’ve ever had.”

“I was so terrible.”

“You were confused,” Draco supplies, small smile on his lips. “I can relate. I’ve no idea how your mum even liked me.”

Scorpius swallows. “I miss her.”

Draco stands, and for the first time since Scorpius was twelve years old, he kisses his son on the forehead.

“I do, too, Scorp.”

—————

_Twelve-year-old Albus Severus Potter nudges Scorpius’s leg, then starts tracing letters on his lower thigh._

_A —_

_Lily Luna giggles to herself, quickly muffled by her mother’s glare._

_W—_

_His mother’s eyes caught his before motioning to his vegetables. He groans, which Al snickers at, and catches the surprised yet amused eye of Harry Potter._

_K—_

_His dad sends a furtive glance at his mum before looking anxiously at the grandfather clock. His mother winces. Must be one of the_ old _magical objects in the Malfoy Manor._

_W—_

_“Nice… Er, potatoes,” Mister Potter tries, poorly, but Scorpius’s mother smiles, politely, all the same._

_“Thank you,” she says, and her face is glowing with a secret pride that his dad often says should be illegal. Scorpius thinks she looks beautiful. “Believe it or not, I cooked these. My great aunt insisted that nonmagical cooking should be a skill to everyone — regardless of gender and whether you're a magical person or a Muggle. She was admirable.”_

_Mrs. Potter sends an almost approving look her way, and Mr. Potter just blinks in surprise. Scorpius’s father’s body tenses at these reactions._

_A—_

_Lily Luna seems to have forever-wandering eyes as she looks around the dining hall of the Malfoy Manor. She catches Scorpius’s eye, and grins, wickedly. Scorpius suppresses a shiver._

_He had met her when he said goodbye to Albus when they left their first year, only a month ago. She had promptly somehow stuck two pieces of insulting parchment in his trousers without touching him. If he wasn’t a wizard himself, he’d accuse her of being a witch._

_R—_

_A loud clatter sounds out when James Sirius starts choking. If the silence was deafening before, it's absolutely choking right then as everyone in the room freezes. Even Al’s finger movements stop, and Scorpius can feel his friend tighten in apprehension._

_But as Mrs. Potter goes to assist her son, and Mister Potter sends a harsh and reproachful look at his dad, James abruptly stops choking and grins. Lily laughs, delighted._

_“Gotcha all. Should've seen the look on Mister Malfoy’s face, no offense, sir.”_

_Scorpius bites his lip, hard, to control his bubbling laughter, and Albus Severus sends his brother a glare that puts Grandmother Cissy’s to shame. (His grandmother was always too soft on him, anyways.)_

_Everyone looks at Draco, then, who merely smiles. “I’m afraid to admit that you indeed frightened me. Thought I had let my poisons accidentally slip into the gravy.”_

_Scorpius’s mum makes the face where she is groaning to herself and planning to clean up her husband’s mistakes, but then Lily Luna sits upright, eyes focused on the man at the head of the table._

_“You have a collection of poisons?” she demands, hazel eyes determined. “I want a go at them.”_

_“Lily!” Mrs. Potter admonishes, voice astonished, but curious humor is blatant in her expression._

_Scorpius’s dad laughs, though, and looks at Al’s dad. “So, you’ve got a Slytherin son who befriended a Malfoy, a daughter who is interested in poisons, and a boy whose pranks may excel to Ginevra’s brothers. Where’d they pick these traits up, eh, Potter?”_

_Astoria glances at her husband, then at the two other adults. Finally, Mrs. Potter pipes up, “Well, Al was always too cunning for his own good — ”_

_“I take pride in that fact,” Al adds, glancing at Draco, who sends him a grin._

_“Lily has always been a little sadistic, though,” James Sirius comments, absentmindedly sliding a load of Astoria’s roasted potatoes on his plate. He glances at her. “Nice potatoes, Mrs. Malfoy, you_ have _to teach me how to make these.”_

_Scorpius’s mum flushes._

_“And James can be charming,” Ginny Potter says, smiling, “and a bit adventurous.”_

_“Gryffindor, Slytherin.” Astoria refers to the Potter sons. “What do you expect Lily to be?”_

_“I’m gonna be a Hufflepuff like Teddy!”_

_Draco laughs, outwardly, at that, and Al does, too. “You’re as much of a Hufflepuff as Roxy is.”_

_“Roxy’s mean,” Lily pouts._

_“I’m a Gryffindor, Lils, why don’t you wanna join my house?” James asks, and by the look on the young girl’s face, Scorpius reckons they’ve had this argument before._

_Lily scrunches up her nose in distaste. “That’s the only reason I_ don't _want to join.”_

_The adults chuckle, then Mister Potter talks for the first time since the potatoes statement:_

_“I suppose James Sirius lived up to his name,” he says, hesitantly. “My father and my godfather were rather… funny in their day, as well.”_

_Scorpius straightens instantly, and Al rolls his eyes, fondly. “Those are Scor's favorite stories, dad. Told him everything you’ve told us, which is all there is to learn, but he has some strange fixation with the 'Marauders'.”_

_James Sirius winks at Scorpius. “Nice choice, kid.”_

_The adults, even Mister Potter and his dad, start a tentative but warm conversation. Albus speaks hushedly to him:_

_“Didn’t think our first dinner would run smoothly. Guess I don’t have to write the D.”_

_They grin, wide and silly, at each other._

_—————_

Scorpius adjusts his reading glasses and squints at the fine print on the report.

“Who would ever even _try_ to break a curse with a… Oh, bloody hell, a _Diffindo_?! I can’t wait till I’m out of this office,” he mutters to himself.

_If ever._

He shakes his head, picking up his Muggle pen and scribbling in information on how to fix the situation for Senior Curse-Breaker, Jeffrey Lou. The git always makes Scorpius do his reports and gets away with it because he’s got infected with a strange spelling hex when breaking a curse for a primary wizarding school. His last report roughly read as “conjunctivitis”, when meant to be: “constipation”. The Clean-Up Team had protective goggles, but not the right potions to stop from clogging the toilets.

Scorpius pushes the black, thick-framed glasses up his nose. His eyesight, much like his father’s, is going haywire at such a young age. His father used to take a potion to avoid wearing them, but he’s too busy for that, now. His mum always liked him in his glasses anyways.

Just as Scorpius goes to write in a final conclusion on the success of the Jeffrey Lou and Penelope Smith cleaning up after Michael Montague’s mess, his door opens. 

He glances up. Grabs his wand. Tries a smile.

“Hey, Roxy.”

He had barely cast a _Protego_ in time for the hex thrown his way.

“Such a warm welcome back,” he mutters.

“You disappear with Al with the expression of murder on your face! You leave an obviously drunk note in your empty flat! You don’t respond to any of our owls, making your _father_ reply! You don’t show up for two days in a row, and you block the wards to let me in the Manor!” Roxanne explodes, pacing around the office. “I felt — I felt like it was seven years ago all over again, but this time _I_ was Al!”

She defiantly plops down in the uncomfortable chair, opposite of his own. She glares.

Scorpius breathes in, slowly. “Okay, well, I have an explanation.”

She glares.

“A good one.”

She glares. 

“About Albus Severus.”

Her expression softens instantly. “What did he do? He won’t tell us anything — not even Rose or Uncle Harry. Not even _Teddy_ knows _,_ and I think he’s secretly a Legilimens _._ He’s being rather… closed-off about it.”

“Understandable, right?” Scorpius sighed, massaging his temples. Roxanne gawks at him. He starts, defensively, “What?”

“Did he… Did he cast Imperio on you?”

“No!” Scorpius flushes. “All we did is talk! Argue, really. He pointed out… Well, he made a very good argument, and I've learned from my… mistakes, I guess?”

Roxanne then lights up completely. “Good! Then you’ll come over for Christmas?”

Scorpius blinks. “How did you get that from what I just said?”

“You just said that you miss Al in Scorpius language,” she says, dismissively. “Everyone will be glad to have you back.”

The second memory Draco had shown him flashes before his eyes.

_Not Harry, for sure._

“Just because I miss — ” Roxanne sends him a glance “ — I mean, if I realized my wrong, doesn’t mean he and I are on _speaking_ terms.”

Roxanne frowns. “Then try to be.”

She leaves, and Scorpius glances at the box at his feet. His father had collected all the letters sent to Scorpius after his seventh year. Scorpius hasn’t read any of them, scared to see them, and that it would strengthen the pain in his chest:

Scorpius misses Albus Severus Potter.

—————

Both of the Malfoy men slide their reading glasses further up their noses.

Draco didn't question his son when the twenty-four-year-old stormed into his office after work with a Muggle pen and three scrolls of parchment. Nor did he ask why he positioned himself with his legs on the back of the couch, and his back touching the seat, writing upside down. Scorpius didn’t provide an answer for either.

Scorpius scrunches his nose up as he scans the hollow words on the parchment. 

_Too fake._

He tears the written part off of the scroll and spells the jagged line straight.

He scribbles another sentence down. He gnaws his lip, shaking his head, once.

_Too apologetic._

“Dad?” He asks, tentatively.

Draco glances at his son. “Yes, Scorpius?”

“So,” Scorpius shifts from his odd placement on the couch, “I was… Well, Roxanne Weasley suggested that — I’m gonna owl Albus Severus.”

Draco looks back up and stares at his son. He blinks.

“Potter?”

Scorpius fails at hiding his smile. “I don’t know another one.”

His father is instantly out of his chair. He walks over to the fireplace, then starts pacing. 

“Well, why are you telling me?”

“I don’t know what to write to him,” Scorpius tells him, attempting to put a stopper to his laughter.

“Well, of course, you don’t. I assume this is because of your recent recollection of memories?”

“Yeah, I guess — ”

“Understandably so. You probably feel terrible, guilty about how rash your choices were when you chose to no longer accompany him. You can probably imagine exactly how he felt when you ignored his owls and didn’t allow him into the Manor, how you _completely shut him out._ You _must_ feel terrible.”

"Well, now I do _,"_ Scorpius jokes, dryly.

“First you have to start with a sincere apology, Scorpius,” Draco spins on him, eyes twinkling happily. “I had written a million and one letters after the war, for redemption. I had even written one to Potter. Senior, that is,” his father adds after a pause.

Scorpius then momentarily wonders if he and his father are thinking of the same Potter for the letter that he's currently writing.

“Then!” Draco exclaims. “Add reasoning as to _why_ you have made this revelation! Make sure it fits nicely with the apology, Scorpius. He’ll want to note how mature you’ve become. BUT! Also, show a slight vulnerability. Yes, I know I’ve always told you to show how _strong_ you are, but in this situation, you’ll have to prove how much you’re missing him, and how much you regret your decision of leaving him. It’s going to take a lot, Scorpius, I’ll tell you that. I mean, _seven years?_ That’s insane! Just imagine how meeting up again will go…” Draco mutters to himself. “Anyways, next you ought to — ”

“Dad,” Scorpius stares at his father with a mixture of exasperation and awe, “I think I have the rest.”

Draco bristles. “Of course. Just tell me if you want me to proofread it. You have to make an impression, right?”

As his father sits back down at his desk, sending furtive glances at him as he continues his work, Scorpius gnaws his lip. He thought his father would be of a little help, but he seems to be even more anxious about this than Scorpius, himself. 

Scorpius thinks back a bit.

_Second Year Albus scrunches up his nose at the love letter._

_Scorpius snatches it out of his hand. He scans it, trying to hide his disdain. He hands the poem back to Al. “Seems like a nice love poem. Has to have been a Ravenclaw because of the — ”_

_Albus throws the letter in the bin. Scorpius gapes. “What was that for?!”_

_Al looks at him with a knowing glint in his eye. “I like bluntness, Scorp. I like someone who knows what they want.”_

_“Been thinking about it a lot?” Scorpius teases, as he stores the information for later. He likes his best friend of one year; he has to know how to keep him. Scorpius nudges Al. “Better go find a Gryffindor, Mister Courageous Love Confession.”_

_Albus shrugs, smiling._

Scorpius grins at the memory. Glancing at his parchment, he knows exactly what to write.

—————

_Albus Severus Potter,_

_I remember._ _And I miss you._

_SM_

_P.S. Any better at_ Episkey _?_

———

Scorpius waited for three days until he got this response:

_Malfoy_

_Good for you. Now, fuck off._

_ASP_

_P.S. I’m a bloody Senior Healer._

Scorpius grinned. No, Albus hadn’t changed at all.

(Except maybe getting more attractive, Scorpius thought, absently.)

———

_Albus Severus,_

_I’d like to meet up. I’d like to talk to you, again._

_I’m really sorry, Albus Severus._

_SM_

_P.S. Oh, well_ that _doesn’t mean anything._

———

_Malfoy,_

_Firstly, stop calling me by my full name. It’s weird. Secondly, I don’t care about an apology. And lastly, I don’t want anything to do with you!_

_Stop owling me, and I can cast any healing spell better than you._

_ASP_

———

_Albus, (Is that okay? Sorry for making you uncomfortable.)_

_I understand that you’d be opposed to meeting up with me, I was a real git, but please, Albus. I’d like to explain myself. We can go to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade like the old days._

_I really miss you._ _I really regret the last seven years. And please know that my apologies are sincere._

_SM_

———

_Malfoy_

_STOP APOLOGIZING._

_I accept your stupid apologies, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you, wanker._

_Reminder: It isn’t the old days, anymore. Hasn’t been for seven years._

_Don’t owl again._

_ASP_

———

_Albus,_

_Can we_ please _meet up, Albus? I’m suffering under guilt and regret and I know that deserve it, but_ _I just really want to explain myself to you, for you to know I’ve changed. For you to know why I’ve ignored you for all these years._

_I don’t expect you to forgive me, and you accepting my apology is more than anything I could’ve hoped for._

_Please, Al,_

_SM_

———

_Malfoy,_

_12:00pm at the Howlers in Wizarding London tomorrow. That’s your one chance._

_ASP_

———

“DAD — !” Scorpius calls as he bounds across the halls of the Malfoy Manor. “DAD! _DAD_!”

“SCORPIUS?!” Draco comes into view, looking thoroughly disheveled. He scowls when he sees his son’s limbs intact and his heart working. “What did you call me for — ”

Scorpius shoves the letter at him. “I just got that now!”

Draco reads it, eyes widening. “From — From Potter?”

“The one and only!” Scorpius laughs.

Draco beams. “Amazing, Scor! Is this the first response? Did you use my formatting?”

Scorpius recoils. “Y— Yeah, of course, dad.”

Draco beams brighter. “This is honestly great, Scorpius, well _done._ As soon as you show how sincere you are, he’ll definitely forgive you.” Draco glances back down at the paper. “Now, we have seventeen hours until you meet up with him. We need to rehearse!”

“Rehearse?” Scorpius questions, wearily.

Draco arched an eyebrow, grinning, mischievously. “I’m not letting you go there, unprepared.”

—————

_“Rayna Corner,” Scorpius offers._

_“Too rude.” Albus continues to polish his broom at the head of his Slytherin themed bed. Scorpius sits crisscrossed at the foot. The blonde sighs._

_“Linus Goodwin?” Scorpius asks._

_Albus shudders, giving Scorpius the side-eye. “Just because I’m bi, doesn’t mean I’m giving every other cock sucker a chance.”_

_It takes Scorpius a while to stop snorting bouts of laughter._

_“Harriet Dwaldin?” Scorpius prompts, wiping tears from his eyes._

_Albus scrunches up his nose. “She’s one of those kids that were named after my father and_ likes _to be called Harry. I heard she only fancies me because she wants to marry me and have the full name Harry Potter.”_

_Scorpius sighs, once again. “That’s all of the other fifth years that fancy you, Al. Which, may I remind you, is nearly the whole year. We’re going to be the only ones at the Yule Ball without dates.”_

_Albus scoffs. “You could easily get one.”_

_“Yes, but if you don’t have one, then_ I _can’t have one. We’re a package deal, Albus Severus, you know that,” Scorpius winks. Despite the use of his full name, Albus smiles._

_“Well,” Albus starts, shifting, “why don’t we just go together?”_

_Scorpius feels his heart beating roughly against his chest._

_Stupid fancy on his stupid best friend._

_“What?” he asks, lamely._

_Albus shrugged, halfheartedly. “You know, as friends. As you said, everyone knows we’re a package deal.”_

_He gives his crooked half-smile at Scorpius, and Scorpius could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating and was just humming because of how fast it was going._

_“Yeah,” Scorpius says, slowly, looking into emerald green eyes. “I’d like that.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scorpius is such an adorable little idiot and albus is such a stubborn little softie what's new
> 
> though i haven't finished writing this, i think this is my favorite part :) i just really love diving into the memories and i love how painful the post-hogwarts memories are. harry's still a dummy in this like he is in tcc but a better dummy because i love him. i'm working hard on getting the next part out, but i can't promise an impending update. i really hope anyone who's reading this is liking it so far! :)


	3. the lightning

_To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves._

_Federico García Lorca_

**PART III**

Bright green eyes stare at Scorpius, searchingly. Scorpius flushes.

The eyes narrow. “Well?” Albus snaps. “What do you want?”

Scorpius shifts, mind racing. Unbelievably, it seems he’s forgotten everything and anything he and his father went over last night. He blinks, then swallows with his throat feeling like a million pins and needles. 

“Well,” he inhales, sharply, “I wanted to — to apologize — ”

“I truly can not count how many times you’ve already done that,” Albus says, shoulders tensing. “You said you were gonna explain. Do that.”

“O—Okay… Well, uh, so as you had, uh - ” 

Explain. Explain! How is he supposed to do that?! _‘Yeah, I started having not-so-platonic thoughts about you around the same time my mum died, and that freaked the hell out of me so I ditched you, hope we can be friends again!’_

Albus leans back, slightly, and with an almost satisfied look on his face, he starts impatiently tapping his foot. “I don’t have all day, Malfoy.”

Scorpius groans, burying his face in his hands for a second. Attempting to clear his entire mind with a swipe of his hand, he looks back up to see Albus’s green eyes hiding amusement.

He tries a smile.

Albus frowns.

The blonde sighs. He avoids eye contact, staring at his cold, forgotten tea. “It started when the attacks were happening. My repression,” he explains. 

“Repression.”

“It usually revolves around traumatic experiences. The victim of it pushes down any memories that are too triggering; ones that fill them with grief and stress. There are different types of repression, mine is from… Well, I guess grief of my mum’s — death, and the attacks at Hogwarts.” Scorpius pauses. “I thought you were supposed to be the Healer?”

“I’m no Mind Healer,” Albus says, dismissively. Scorpius smiles. “Anyways, I understand how you… repressed the thoughts of what was happening with violence and sadness, but I don’t why — why you forgot me.” Albus's voice goes small, but then he clears his throat, and Scorpius wonders if he imagined it.

Scorpius hesitates before talking. He most likely blocked out the memories of falling in love with Albus Severus because it was so close to dealing with his mum’s death, and it also caused a whole lot of stress, as well. From the recollected memories, he remembers having a fancy on Albus for a good many years, then falling in love when he was being taken care of by the boy. 

Scorpius lies.

“I don’t know much about repression, honestly. Just what Dad told — ”

“How is he?”

They both look very surprised to hear the words fall out of the Potter boy’s mouth, and Scorpius almost leaps in happiness.

Trying very hard to divert his eyes from Scorpius’s blinding smile but still appear unbothered, Albus busies his hands with charming his tea warm and emptying three more sugar packets than the two he usually takes. He coughs. “Well? How is Draco? And stop smiling so wide, it’s just a question.”

“Sorry,” Scorpius chirps. “But he’s doing delightful. He’s really helped in recollecting my memories. He’s lent me some of his own, in fact.”

Albus cocks his head. “Why hasn’t he noticed you repressed them over the years?”

_He thought it was taboo because I fell in love with you._

“Repression takes away significant details, but often leaves what happened still intact with your consciousness. I know who my mother’s murderer was, I know where she was found, I know when it happened, and I have since I was seventeen. I just forgot the little things, like the nights I spent crying after her, or the thoughts of you saving me — ” Albus hides his face behind his cup again “ — so many times. Thanks for that, by the way. Anyways, this takes me back to your original question. I remembered you as my best friend, but I blocked out the times of my mum’s death, so I forgot how _truly_ you were. I can’t remember my thought process when I was ignoring your owls, sorry, but I know that I didn’t think as highly as I should’ve of you back then, and it seems I took you for granted. I know you don’t like it when I say this, Albus, but I’m really, _really_ sorry for that.”

Albus doesn’t speak. He stares out the window, watching colorful witches and wizards whizz by, chatting to their companions. He sips his tea.

Scorpius attempts to print his face into his memory, more than it already is. He’s missed out on seeing how it’s developed over the last seven years, and that might be one of the things he regrets the most. His eyebrows are thicker than they used to be, and Scorpius wonders when he’ll be seeing his Aunt Fleur. His jaw is much more defined, and it’s clenched as he continues to be silent. Gone is his lithe Seeker frame, and he takes a more muscular chest, like how James Sirius’s was. His hair is in a neat bun, his white undershirt that Scorpius assumes he wears under his Healer robes is fit but a tad loose, and his lips are still delicately pink, the bottom one more full than the top. And his bright eyes show heavens, and Scorpius can’t help but think that Veelas have nothing on Albus Severus Potter, because he would do _anything_ to have those eyes paying attention to him.

He’s an image that Scorpius thought only existed in the magazines. Scorpius feels his heart pound harder. 

Scorpius speaks on.

“I do remember, also, that your father was the support my dad needed when I was no use,” Scorpius prompts. “So… So, if you could thank him — ”

“By the way that he talks of you and Draco, it’s like he’s repressed you, too,” Albus comments, like speaking of the weather. “It’ll take a little more than a lesson on repression to get old Harry Potter back.” He stands, grabbing his cloak and throwing a couple of Knuts on the table. “Now, excuse me. I have to get back to St. Mungo’s.”

Scorpius panics as his form goes to leave, and he acts fast. He grabs Albus’s hand, ‘wait’ on his lips when Albus pulls his hand away as if he's burnt him. He stares, accusingly, at Scorpius with piercing eyes.

“Wait,” Scorpius breathes, standing to face his former best friend. “Is a lesson on repression good enough for _you_?”

For the first time since they’ve been reunited, Albus gives Scorpius a genuine smile. “This is gonna take much more than an _Episkey_ , Scor. See you later.”

As he leaves, Scorpius barely registers his words.

_See you later._

He almost faints on the spot.

—————

_“Your eyelashes are really long — and, well,_ pretty _,” Albus tells him after his sobbing hiccups subside._

_Scorpius raises his head from the Potter boy’s chest to look at him, incredulously._

_Albus flushes, eyes twinkling. “What? They are.”_

_“Even with my red, puffy eyes?” Scorpius rests his chin on the other’s pectorals._

_Albus blows minty breath on the blonde’s eyelids, making Scorpius flutter them close, nose scrunching up. Albus laughs, heartily, and Scorpius grins. “Even with red, puffy eyes, Scor.”_

—————

“Hello, Mr. Kensworth!” Scorpius calls, cheerily to the brooding Unspeakable as he ventures across the Atrium. The receiving man blinks, before giving a small wave. Scorpius grins. “Have a good day!”

Scorpius passes the fountain, tossing two Galleons in it, and winking at the golden witch and wizard, who stand equal to the other, proud magical beings next to them. 

He enters the lift, immediately seeing one Frank Longbottom II, who cowers at the sight of him.

Scorpius beams.

“Frank!” He swallows him in a hug. “How are you, mate?”

Frank, relieved if not confused, smiles back. “Great, Scorp. How’s the job doing? Curse-Breaking, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Scorpius nods as the lift takes them to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. “But I haven't had any action, really.”

Frank frowns. “Why? You’ve been in the game awhile.”

Scorpius shrugs. “Eh. I’ve got reports to be finished, and all that. It’s good.”

The lift gets to Frank’s department, and Scorpius urges him out. “Now, don’t worry about me! Go and save some lives for me, will you?!”

Scorpius gets to his department (Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes), and whistles on his way, grinning and waving at his colleagues, who look a mixture of surprised, annoyed, and confused of his attitude change.

He plops in his office chair, filling up half-finished reports, and adding smiling faces to the conclusions. 

Then Roxanne barges in, suspicion edged onto every inch of her pretty face.

“Hey, Roxy!” Scorpius greets, pushing up his reading glasses to his nose. “How’s it going?”

Roxanne grimaces. “Do I want to know why you’re in such a good mood?”

“You would,” Scorpius says, cheekily. Roxanne raises her eyebrows.

“Maybe I’ll just ask Draco,” she says, promptly.

Scorpius furrows his eyebrows. “Are you and my father talking now?”

“No, but he’s really funny, and says that I’m humorous, too, so,” she waves her hand, “take what you will from that.”

“That my father should probably stop talking to you, it makes me uncomfortable,” Scorpius remarks, shifting in his chair.

Roxanne flushes, and Scorpius only has a millisecond to appreciate that this may be the first time he’s ever seen her do that, before he realizes what it means.

Scorpius gapes. “You don’t have a _crush_ on my dad, do you, Roxy?” She doesn’t reply. “ _Gross!_ He’s like — ninety, or something! _Disgusting,_ Roxanne Weasley!”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate you saying that,” she sneers, avoiding eye contact.

“When did this _happen_?!” Scorpius gasps, his happy mood declining.

“Well, you know I used to fancy _you,_ and you look so much like your father, so probably when he first visited the Burrow for Christmas,” Roxanne rambles.

Scorpius squints. “When you were eleven,” he says, flatly.

Roxanne huffs, studying her nails. “Age is just a number.”

“And indeed there is a very _large difference_ between the numbers of yours and my dad’s,” Scorpius acknowledges.

“Oh, shut it!” Roxanne snaps. “Not like there’s anything _romantic_ between the two of us.”

The silence stretches, and the pity starts to grow heavy in the air. Roxanne groans, and Scorpius jumps.

“Oh, I’m going to get so much shite from the others for taking away the _one_ morning where you were happy and not an utter git,” she sighs. Scorpius grins, wearily.

“Well… I can tell you why I’m so giddy,” says Scorpius, tentatively.

Roxanne leans in, eagerly. “What is it?”

“But you can’t tell _anyone,_ ” he says, sternly.

She nods, not saying anything.

He moans. “I wouldn’t trust you with an Unbreakable Vow.” 

She gasps, offended. “What —”

“Look, I’m going to put my trust in you, but remember that I _also_ know a few new things about _you_ ,” says Scorpius, knowingly.

Flustered, Roxy waves him on.

“It’s Albus,” Scorpius gushes, and Roxy gasps. “I know, right? We met up yesterday. And… Well, he said, ‘ _see you later_ ’!” 

Roxanne stays silent. Then squeals. “Oh my fucking fuck sticks, Scorpius Malfoy! That’s so great! I even — ” her eyes widen “ — Merlin, Circe, and Morgana… Scorpius, I saw James just this morning, and he said yesterday night that Al was acting a bit oddly happy. It must've been _you_! I could _die_!”

Scorpius blinks. “Are you joking?”

“Of course not!” Roxanne laughs. “This is great, Scorpius! You might even make it for Christmas.”

Considering it was already October and Albus Severus seemed content on going slow with their renewed companionship, Scorpius highly doubted that.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Roxy.” He scrunches his nose. “Wait, do you want _me_ to be there, or my father?” 

Roxanne blushes, prettily, for maybe the eighteenth time in the hour.

—————

_“I don’t see why it’s still necessary!” Scorpius shouts at his father. “They didn’t do it before — They didn’t… Even after what happened to m-mum?! It makes no — no sense!”_

_Draco bends over, picking up a cracked picture frame of Scorpius’s great aunt on his mum’s side, then repairs it. “Scorpius — ”_

_“I mean, I understand right after the war, but it’s been — what? Twenty-seven years, now? And you haven’t done_ one _wrong thing,” Scorpius fumes, kicking an already torn armchair. “And then, of course, we can’t report it to anyone because the people who did it are supposed to be protecting us!”_

_“Scorpius,” his father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do not blame the DMLE — ”_

_“They shouldn’t have assigned the Magical Law Enforcement_ Patrol _!_ _Everyone on this damned planet knows that the head, bloody MacMillan, has it out for anyone who’s ever even touched a dark object,” Scorpius hisses, and his father brings up a silencing hand._

_“Scorpius, I’m sure that the Head had no intention towards us to — ” Draco starts, quietly._

_“Of course! Why didn’t_ I _think of that?” Scorpius huffs. “Head_ Potter _. Not that, of course, dad. Because we’re_ so _liked by the Potters, now!”_

—————

Scorpius had seen Albus Severus Potter only thrice in the past seven years before their reunion.

The first time was about three years after his graduation. He was working for his uncle in the Potion Plaza still, on a shift he never took because he had once seen a group of familiar redheads approaching the building at the time. He had always taken the evening shift to avoid them, but he had wounded up in the afternoon shift after Steven Greene the Muggleborn had gotten some Muggle illness and only accepted his Muggle grandmother’s chicken soup as a cure. 

He had been restocking the Cheering Potions on the east side of the store when Albus Potter had walked in. They had only made eye contact for about five seconds before looking away, obvious to both of them that they hadn’t expected to see one another there. Albus had talked to someone at the counter, asking where Steven Greene the Muggleborn was, before leaving with a prominent frown and the answer to his question. Scorpius didn’t — and still doesn’t — know what he was frowning at; Scorpius’s presence or Steven Greene’s absence?

The second time Albus didn’t see him. It was around Christmas time, and both of them were Christmas shopping. Albus was absentmindedly scanning the old _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ store window with his green, green eyes when Scorpius saw him. He was bundled up against the cold, but his nose was still red like it always gets in the cold. His unruly, black hair was sprinkled with white from the snow and his bottom lip had been pulled between two rows of white teeth. Scorpius had had the warmest feeling in his stomach before he fled.

The last and most recent time was just seven months before Roxanne had asked him to go out with them. Scorpius still isn’t sure if it counts. He had been walking through the Atrium on a very busy morning because the Battle of Hogwarts anniversary was coming up soon. The endless pushing and shoving of Ministry workers and citizens were harsh, but Scorpius still had seen the signature lime-green Healer robes touch his shoulder and the undefinable Albus Severus scent. He had turned and craned his neck, but all he had seen were tall pointy hats and odd Muggle clothing from witches and wizards who had just come from the Muggle world.

All of those times it would’ve been too awkward and raw to approach the dark-haired man, but when Scorpius sees him a week and a half after their meeting, he doesn’t know what to do. 

Albus Severus was there, alone, in the Ministry’s cafeteria, just looking out of one of the many windows. 

Scorpius knows that he’ll be here a while; some business with some senior Healers and the Aurors. Maroon and lime green robes were the majority in the cafeteria, the rest of the Ministry workers pushed to the side. Albus stands alone, though, with neither Healer nor Auror companions. 

Scorpius inhales, sharply. Then he walks forward.

“Hey,” he greets behind Albus, and Albus’s shoulders tense before he turns around.

His features almost soften, but his lips are still pulled in that neutral… grimace.

“Hello,” the other man responds, looking a bit defiantly at the blonde. He crosses his arms, and Scorpius wonders how he can manage to look so damn _delectable_ in those ugly robes.

_Think hetero thoughts, think hetero thoughts..._

“So, you’re in the meeting?” asks Scorpius, motioning to the other Healers and Aurors. “How’s that going?”

Albus studies him for a second — making Scorpius’s cheeks _inflame_ , mind you — then talks, “Fine, so far. Head Healer Abbott keeps everyone in check, mostly; even my incredibly insane brother. Still don’t get how he even became a Senior Auror, but, of course…”

Scorpius nods, the name _Potter_ floating, unspoken, in the air. Albus visibly tenses, but looks searchingly at Scorpius, again, as he seems to do every time. 

“How’s Curse-Breaking?” Albus finally says, slowly sliding into the cafeteria seat. Scorpius heart pounds as he cautiously falls in the one across from him.

“Uneventful, really,” Scorpius frowns. “I don’t get much action. Just a desk job.”

Albus furrows his eyebrows. “Haven’t you been here for a while?”

“Two years, this Christmas — Hang on, how did you know that?” Scorpius asks.

Albus flushes, harshly. “I hear around — You know, Roxy and all them…”

Wanting nothing more than Albus being comfortable and staying, Scorpius rushes to change the subject. “Anyways, it’s all good. Reports are getting completed, and the higher Curse-Breakers are happy, so…”

“Wait, you’re not a Junior?” Albus inquires.

Scorpius shifts. “No, not yet. Of course, if I was, I’d at least have done _one_ mission.”

Albus doesn’t laugh at the joke. 

“If you’ve been around for two years, surely you should be at least a Junior,” Albus says. 

It was true — Most of the time the mediocre Juniors are moved abroad, and the lower Curse-Breakers are promoted to the junior position over a year’s end. Both Scorpius and his father knew it, but they had their reasons not to approach the subject, and that seems to be best.

Scorpius shrugs, pushing his hands in his trouser pockets, his lilac Ministry robes hiking up on the sides. “I don’t mind. It’s not risking the chance of leaving Dad behind, so…”

Albus’s green eyes soften incredibly, and Scorpius bathes in the pity, or sympathy, or whatever it is Albus Potter is feeling for him because it’s the first look that is open with him today.

Nonetheless, the conversation is clearly on his shoulders, so he starts up again. “How’s, er - Lily Luna, and… James Sirius?”

“You don’t have to call them by their whole names, Malfoy.” His tone isn’t teasingly friendly, but it isn’t unkind either, and Scorpius basks in it, a fluttering sensation in his chest that he hasn’t felt for a _long_ time.

“How’s James and Lily, then?” he asks, flustered.

Albus leans in a little, still looking at the flushed boy studiously. “Fine, I think. James is throwing his title around, and Dad always has to remind him that _he_ was _Head_ Auror and then Head of the _DMLE_ , and that shuts him up a bit. Lily… Well, you know Lily, I guess. She hasn’t stayed on one job for over a half a year since she left Hogwarts five years ago.”

Scorpius grins, sheepishly. “You could say the same about me, only longer. Which is sad, really.”

Albus arches an eyebrow. “Weren’t you working at - ” _Cough, cough. Avoids eye contact. Looks up again._ “ - your Uncle Zabini’s for a while?”

Scorpius nods, still grinning like a fool. “Yeah, three years actually. But before that, I was at my Aunt Pansy’s, and for a year I was unemployed unless you count bothering my dad as an occupation.”

Albus’s eyes twinkle, suspiciously, before the light dies out. “Is Pansy still married to Bella’s second cousin? What was the name… Kato, or something like that?”

Scorpius buries his face in his hands, ears pink, groaning. “Oh, don’t talk about _Kato,_ please.”

Scorpius doesn’t see it, but Albus lets a small smile grace his lips.

“Well?”

“Well, Kato was an idiot, but her new love is even worse - he’s just a git,” Scorpius states, looking up. “Surely you saw their wedding in the papers?”

Albus shifts. “I didn’t look at the papers much, after seventh year.”

Scorpius swallows, the thick, dense air rising above them again. The papers had had stories about Harry, Draco, Ginny, the kids, and _Astoria, Astoria, Astoria,_ for the better part of six months after her death. But then, of course, after that they had seized the opportunity to cover the debacle of the Malfoy/Potter family relationship. They had the craziest stories, fed the craziest rumors. Stories on Mr. Potter and Scorpius’s mum having an affair and it leaking after the man’s complete meltdown at the news of her decease. (Mr. Potter had had a meltdown, yes, but he had loved Astoria as he loves Minister Granger-Weasley.) Stories on how the Malfoys believed it was the Aurors' fault, and that they no longer wanted a connection to the Head Auror’s family.

The worst stories were that the Malfoys had killed their woman companion, and that the Potters knew this and - keeping it a secret out of loyalty - simply wanted to separate themselves from the Dark people. Those articles always brought up the war, the rivalry, the hatred of the two names.

Scorpius attempts to appear relaxed, knowing his former best friend. “Yeah, I didn’t either. But it’s _Zacharias Smith._ ”

Albus’s eyes widen, comically. “Smith?!”

Scorpius laughs aloud, tension evaporating. “Yes! For six years, Al! The longest one yet!”

Albus, looking a bit surprised, smiles a tad. “Oh? So no Kato, anymore?”

“No, she’s quite smitten with Uncle Zachy,” Scorpius says, a childish giggle - that he mentally berates himself for - passing his lips. “Well… How’s your mum?”

The man chuckles. “She’s still mum. Uncle Ron thinks she’s going to take over Grandma’s place when Grandma passes away, which we all doubt will ever happen.”

Scorpius brightens up. “How _is_ Molly?”

“Fine,” Albus says, looking out the window. “She misses you. A lot.”

The blonde looks away, as well, and bites his lip nervously. “Roxanne wants me to come for Christmas.”

Albus’s eyes snap back to him, slightly fiery. “And will you - ”

“Potter!”

A gorgeous Indian girl with short black hair comes into view. She glances at Scorpius to Albus, eyes calculating. “Uh… The meeting will be back up in five.”

Albus stiffens, and looks at her, pulling her gaze away from Scorpius. “Thanks, Rayna.”

Scorpius has to close his dropped jaw with his hand, and he berates himself for being so embarrassing. 

Rayna Corner looks at Albus for a split second, almost apologetically, then turns to Scorpius. “Where have you been, blondie?”

Scorpius mentally winces. He forgot how bluntly rude she was. “Hey, Rayna. Nice to see you, too.”

“Cut the crap, Malfoy,” she says, impatiently.

“ _Rayna, please,_ ” admonishes Albus.

Rayna sends a withering glare at Scorpius before storming off. Albus stands, face flushed.

“She’s as pleasant as ever,” Scorpius mutters.

Albus arches an eyebrow. “She’s one of my best friends.”

_Okay, low blows are being thrown._

“Anyways, this was a nice chat,” Albus flattens his lime-green robes, “but I’ve got a meeting to attend.”

Scorpius stands, as well, nerves wracking every fiber of his being. He swallows. “I was actually wondering if, uh…”

Albus looks at him, dark eyebrow still arched. This is the first time they’ve stood so close together since the night at the Patronus, and Scorpius was a little too distracted by being angry to notice how utterly attractive Albus looked, then.

He musters his nonexistent Gryffindor courage. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet up again.”

Albus blinks as if what Scorpius said was unexpected. It probably was.

“When… and _where_ would this be, exactly?” Albus asks, eyes curious.

“Tonight at mine.” The words wouldn’t stop spilling. “At my flat.”

Albus’s eyebrows raise higher. His voice sounds high-pitched when he speaks. “Oh? Uh - ”

“Potter!” Rayna’s voice sounds over the sound of Healers and Aurors alike rushing back to the conference room.

Albus glances in her general direction, anxiously, before looking back at Scorpius. “I…”

Scorpius flushes. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have given you such a - ”

“ _POTTER!_ ”

“Tonight. Okay. Tonight at seven.” Albus nods, walking backward away from Scorpius. “Send me an owl with your address. Er - goodbye! See you later!”

Scorpius blinks, rapidly. “Uh… Bye!”

He sits, hardly aware that his lunch break ended ten minutes ago. 

He’s having Albus over. 

Albus Severus Potter.

He only feels slightly embarrassed when a stray Healer steers away from him because of his goofy grin.

—————

_“Rosie!” Thirteen-year-old Albus sings. “My heart belongs to you!”_ _  
_

_“Shut it!” Scorpius moans. “It’s a tiny crush!”_

_Albus is laughing until Scorpius says this. He frowns. “Wait… You_ actually _have a crush on her?”_

_Scorpius ducks his head. “Is it obvious?”_

_Albus blinks, frown deepening. “I mean…”_

_Scorpius furrows his eyebrows, amused yet a bit scared. “What, Al?” He stands, worried. “Al-?” He walks closer to him, now frowning as well._

_Then he recoils. He starts, quietly: “I’m not so interested in Rose that I’ll marry into the family if that’s what you’re worried about - ”_

_That snaps Albus out of his daze. “What? Why would I_ ever _be upset about that, Scor?”_ _  
_

_Scorpius reddens a bit before shrugging. “You just zoned out there.”_

_Albus stiffens, a sign of his discomfort in a situation. He sounds bristled, “Yes, well… I don’t know, you and Rose… Just an odd thought. Forget about it.”_

_“I can’t forget about my own fancy, Al,” Scorpius teases, gently, but reassured. He could understand Albus’s reaction now - if Albus chose to date one of Uncle Zabini’s or Aunt Daphne’s kids, he’d be weirded out as well._

_Albus blushes a bit, and Scorpius’s stomach sort of twists - not distastefully so, either._

_“I dunno,” Albus laughs. “Anyways, maybe we should start hanging out with Rose more. She always seems desperately eager to get away from those doting Ravenclaw friends of hers.”_

_Scorpius laughs, nodding happily._

_And when Rose seamlessly became the third person in their trio, Scorpius's crush on her silently floated away, being replaced with something stronger for someone else._

\-----

Scorpius flicks his wand, checking the time. 

_6:48PM._

He breathes, a bit better now.

He had been on Cloud Nine until he went back to the offices with a glaring Desdemona Fairwood, his boss. He had sourly taken his lecture - which was harsh, unjustly so, because he had _never_ been late before, _ever_ \- and then when he _did_ get back to his office, he remembered that he had hardly been in his flat, mostly spending his free time at the Manor with his ever bored father, and Klinky.

So he had to rush to Diagon Alley after work to send his father an owl, vaguely describing his disappearance from tonight’s dinner. He also sent one to Albus, writing his address and a cheesy joke about something stupid which he is really regretting right now. Then he had to get to his flat, clean the living area, kitchen, dining area, and bathroom, and make sure everything looked neat, which was really the opposite of Scorpius’s usual arrangement, and dammit, Albus knew that, but he hoped he’d see the good intentions behind it.

He then proceeded to get his mother’s old recipe book that he secretly took from the Manor when he got his flat a year ago, and made his best attempt at her delicious roasted potatoes, with lemon-herb chicken and a large Caesar salad. He had debated heavily on what to drink and finally decided that Albus could make that choice on his own.

By that time, he had received an owl from his father back that asked why he was missing dinner, and if anything was wrong, but before he could send a response back, the post owl had flown away, and Scorpius had decided to maybe get his own owl and not rely on those _bloody old_ ones that the post offers.

But now, here he stands, looking at a very nice flat with a nice meal with reservation charms on it at his small dining table, and a very inviting couch as he hopes that maybe Albus will be so charmed that he’ll want some tea before he leaves.

Scorpius facepalms. _This is_ not _a date!_ He scolds himself. Then he notices his outfit, which was his undershirt and lilac Curse-Breaker trousers. He almost cries in anguish before he runs to his room, quickly changing into a loose-fitting grey Muggle t-shirt and nice wizarding trousers.

(His father would scold him for mixing the different styles, but his mother and Molly and sometimes even Aunt Fleur always said he looked dashing when he’d dress like this, so what did his father know?)

He had just wrestled his usually compliant hair in a nice way when the doorbell rang. 

He rushed out, thinking fondly of the Muggle way that Albus decided to show up, before opening the door.

There he was, Albus Potter. With his bright green eyes, and messy, black hair. He wore tight jeans and a green t-shirt, appearing so carelessly attractive that Scorpius felt faint.

“Albus,” he says, a bit breathlessly. He moves to the side, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Albus hesitates for half a second before giving a tentative smile. Scorpius beams, quietly closing the door behind his former best friend. 

“Uh,” he exhales. “I- Well, the food is ready… If you’re - you know… Ready to eat.”

Albus glances at him before focusing on the meal. His pupils dilate. “I thought I smelled… Did you make Astoria’s roasted potatoes?”

Scorpius ducks his head, blushing. “Yes.”

Albus wanders to the dining table. “This looks fantastic, Scorpius.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Scorpius says, finally regaining some thought. “I - Would you like something to drink?”

Albus nods. “Anything really.”

“Wine? Water?” quires Scorpius.

Albus rolls his eyes. “Whatever you have, Scorpius.”

Scorpius nods, flustered, and walks to the adjoined, open kitchen. Albus speaks.

“This is a nice place.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius calls as he gets their drinks, “I got it a little over a year ago. Thought twenty-three might be cutting it with living with your dad.”

Albus smiles, gently, behind Scorpius’s back. Then he narrows his eyes. “You didn’t snag this from the elves, did you?”

Scorpius laughs, heartily. “No. We actually got rid of them all after - after mum passed away. We only have Klinky now?”

“ _Kinky_ ’s still there?” Albus asks, unable to hide the humor in his tone. “Thought he’d be serving some queen or king by now. He’s a mighty fine elf.”

Scorpius returns, setting down expensive wine and two glasses. He straightens. “Well, I swear to Merlin that I made everything in this meal. With my own two hands.” He inhales. “Would you like to take off your jacket?”

Albus does, and Scorpius takes it, hanging it on the rack next to his cloak. His breathing hitches at the sight.

Scorpius motions to the table and Albus sits, only a bit hesitant. He goes over as well and slowly serves the two of them. It seems surreal - the situation has only happened in dreams, and fantasies that were chosen to be hidden rather than dealing with them.

He pours the wine, sliding the glass to Albus, then sits down. The clattering of utensils against plates is the only sound in Scorpius’s silent flat.

“It tastes delicious.” Albus clears his throat. Then he glances up, green eyes twinkling under the glittering lights above them. “Exactly like how… how Astoria made it.”

Scorpius looks up, his gratitude weighing his eyes and causing a heavy feeling in the corners. He opens his mouth to speak but finds he can’t, and just nods. Albus Severus understands.

He catches his throat again. “Mind you, Dad doesn’t know, but I snagged her - mum’s recipe book from her chambers when I got this place.” He then thinks a bit. “No, dad probably does know.”

Albus nods. He shifts in his seat. 

Scorpius discreetly studies him. Every time they’ve met, they’ve talked about their family and how they’re doing. Never about themselves. Scorpius sparks an idea, which might not work, but it would’ve worked on old Albus.

“So…” he starts, and Albus jumps a little. “When did you start healing at St. Mungo’s?”

Scorpius is not disappointed.

Albus had gotten a strange but certainly not unpleasant glaze in his eyes before launching into a lengthy explanation on how he had been unemployed for a while after seventh year, but Aunt Longbottom, Healer herself, said her cousin - who is the Head Healer - might be interested in seeing a passionate young man who has been intrigued in healing for so long. _That_ branched a lecture on how Head Healer Abbott is probably the most brilliant Head Healer in the history of St. Mungo’s. He spoke passionately about his job, about how he is even considering becoming a Mediwizard, and Scorpius soaks all of it in, ready to take an Albus Potter and His Occupation quiz, because the Potter boy’s voice is so nice on the ears, and he looks so… so…

_The same._

The same as in Scorpius’s memories. And that thrills Scorpius to a point nearly unfathomable.

Albus abruptly stops. “Merlin… I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Scorpius grins. “It’s fine. Honestly. My job is shite to yours.”

And then Albus Severus laughs, forgetting his facade of anger and carelessness he had vowed to wear around Scorpius. And Scorpius feels like he’s floating for the second time today.

Until, of course, his ever so timed father falls out of the Floo, coughing.

How did Scorpius forget to ward it? He doesn’t know. Probably never will.

Albus’s eyes widen as Draco stumbles out. “You let it get dirty _again,_ Scorpius, I will never fail to understand how - oh.”

Scorpius is standing already, and Draco is staring at Albus, who stares at Draco. Draco throws a glance at the half-eaten roast potatoes, eyes softening by tenfold. He looks at Scorpius, who looks at Albus, who still looks at Draco.

It’s all a bit of a mess, Scorpius thinks. 

“Dad,” he breathes. “Didn’t expect you to show up here.”

Draco exhales, breaking eye contact and swiftly vanishing any speck of soot on his cloak with his wand. “Didn’t expect you to have company. Hello, Albus Severus.”

Albus stands, too, and looks at Scorpius then back to Draco. His voice is on the edge of cracking when he speaks, and Scorpius knows that he hates it. “Hello, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco’s eyes glimmer over. “I’m… I’m sorry for interrupting, boys. I’ll just… I’ll just leave.”

It surprises all of them when Albus steps forward. “Wait.”

Draco looks back.

Albus breathes, shallowly. “I want to… I want you to know that there’s no - no hard feelings. That - That seven years ago was seven years ago.” Scorpius’s heart rackets. “And that although everything was bad, things can get better. All of it.”

 _Even my dad_ hovers over their heads, and Draco’s shoulders lose their intense pose, expression almost breaking. Scorpius breathes, heavily but joyously.

“Thank you - ” When his voice cracks, Draco clears his throat. “Thank you very much, Albus Severus.”

Albus’s eyes turn pleading. “Please, call me Al. I get enough of the full name from this guy."

Draco laughs, and, despite his flush, Scorpius beams at the rich quality of it.

Albus’s lips quirk up before he moves. “Right. I’m sorry for the abrupt leave, but I was already due to go before you got here. See, mum is a bit insistent on Family Fridays now, and Grandma Molly with Burrow Sunday dinners - it’s quite a busy week _every_ week.” Albus grabs his jacket before looking at the two Malfoy men. “But, uh… I had a nice time. Scorpius. I… Owl me.”

Scorpius nods, his lips in a goofy grin that he knows Albus is mentally rolling his eyes at.

“And night, Mr. Malfoy,” adds Albus. “Say hi to Kinky - _Klinky_ for me.”

Draco nods, his own secretive smile on his lips. Albus looks between them before nodding to himself and going out the door.

Draco spins to Scorpius and they stare at each other for a good three minutes.

Then, Scorpius lets out a bark of a laugh and Draco laughs, as well.

Finally, Draco stops, his eyes on the table. He smiles. “I think we’ve got a good piece of normal back, Scorp.”

—————

_“Merlin, Potter, you flirt.”_

_Albus Severus grins at Scorpius’s tease as they spin their way through the dance floor, many people stopping to gape openly at them. Scorpius and Albus seem a bit oblivious to it all._

_“Dad said that us going together was the worst mistake of my life,” informs Scorpius. At Albus’s raised eyebrow, he speaks on. “He said that your dad was a horrific dancer.”_

_“That’s more or less true,” Albus says, cryptically. Scorpius throws him a look. Albus laughs, almost messing up their near-perfect routine. “Fine, Dad_ is _a bad dancer. Terrible, actually. Mum says it’s his second fault.”_

_Scorpius furrows his brows. “Second?”_

_Albus contorts his face in disgust. “She wouldn’t tell me the first, but by dad’s blush, none of us wanted to know.”_

_Scorpius laughs so hard tears track his face, and Albus grins before concentrating again. “How can you dance so perfectly without paying attention?”_

_“Black and Greengrass blood," Scorpius shrugs._

_“Your cousin isn't doing so well — ” Albus nods to Scorpius’s cousin, Ariana Greengrass, who does a weird sort of Muggle jive to the more classical music “ — and Teddy can't dance shite, so it’s either Malfoy blood or just you.”_

_Scorpius forces down a harsh blush, looking away. “Father taught me.”_

_Albus nods. “Thought so. Dad said he was good, I think. It’s hard to take out the compliments from all of the petty insults.”_

_Scorpius hums in agreement, zoning out a bit. Then the song stops, and they wander to the snack table. Rose joins them, straying away from her date, Theodore Zabini, and frowning._

_“Why didn’t you tell me you were going together?” she asks, eyes narrowed, but a deep amusement in her eyes. “We could’ve done a three-person dance.”_

_Albus rolls his eyes. “Can you handle one second of the attention not being focused on you, Rose?”_

_Rose grins, eyelashes fluttering. “Of course not, dear cousin. Why are you so red, Scorpius?”_

_Scorpius shrugs, hiding behind a cup of punch. “D-Didn’t know so many people were staring.”_

_Rose smirks. “Oh,_ everyone _was staring.”_

_Albus seems unperturbed. “How’s Zabini?”_

_“Your cousin is a very skilled man, Scorpius,” Rose laughs, eerily. Scorpius shudders, and Albus throws him a grin. “So glad he asked me.”_

_“Rose, you bothered him until he broke, and that was only because you said something derogatory about Hufflepuffs.”_

_Rose rolls her eyes. “Bollocks. He totally likes me, he’s just scared of what his dad will say.”_

_“Can’t believe you fancy a Hufflepuff,” Albus snorts, strangely attractive in Scorpius’s head._

_He should probably get checked._

_Rose glares. “Oi, Teddy’s a Hufflepuff! And you sound just like my dad. ‘Oh, Rose, come on! A_ Pure-blood _?!’ or ‘That git, Zabini, in Diagon Alley — Oh sorry, Rose, didn’t see you there, no offense.’ Honestly!”_

_The two Slytherin boys clutch their stomachs at her perfect imitation of Ronald Weasley. She smiles a bit triumphantly, before flicking a red curl from in front of her face. “Well, I’ve got to dash. Later, lovebirds.”_

_Albus’s eyebrows furrow, before he rolls his eyes. Scorpius ignores it._

_Abruptly, another song plays. Albus lights up, and Scorpius grasps the table._

_“No, no, no, Albus Potter, I am_ not _dancing to this song,” Scorpius warns as Celestina Warbeck’s song,_ A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love _starts. “Father has forbade me from ever listening to this. This shouldn’t be played on school grounds.”_

 _Scorpius throws his hands over his ears, and Albus laughs, tugging him to the dance floor. “Oh come on, Scor. I only get to listen to this once a year with Grandma, because_ my _Mum and Dad forbade it! Please?”_

_Scorpius sighs, glancing at the other flustered students who recognized the song. He looks at Albus, shrinking. “Fine.”_

_Albus beams so wide, Scorpius forgets his worries. He’s pulled in a circle as they start dancing, being the only ones doing it on the floor._

I've got a cauldron full of hot, strong love  
And it's bubbling for you!  
Say _Incendio_ , but that spell's not hot  
As my special witch's brew!

_Scorpius laughs as Albus dances in circles around him. They must look a bit crazy, but he doesn’t find it in him to care._

Don't you be afraid, come and take a sip  
Of this steamy, tasty treat!  
What's in my cauldron full of hot, strong love  
Will make your life complete!

_Scorpius finally loses his tense posture, dancing crazily with Albus. He almost feels as if he’s in the 1920s, dancing to a live performance. Neither of the happy boys notice the cheering and the slow trickle of students who lose their embarrassment as the most popular Slytherin boys dance._

Oh, come and stir my cauldron  
And if you do it right  
I'll boil you up some hot, strong love  
To keep you warm tonight!

_Scorpius is in ecstasy. Albus laughs and shouts over the corrupt, 'formal' ball, “I wonder how our dads will like this!”_

_Scorpius laughs, too, and grins. “I think I’ll have to run away soon.”_

Oh, such thrills await  
'Cause, together, we are ready to proceed  
Drink from my cauldron full of hot, strong love  
It's all the magic you'll ever need!

_The song ends with Warbeck’s powerful note, and Albus smiles at Scorpius as the other students don’t settle down. Headmistress McGonagall — who’s a tad flustered — is berating a cheerful Professor Flitwick, who is in charge of the music._

_”I don’t regret not taking Rayna Corner, or Harriet Dwaldin, by the way,” Albus mutters, low in his ear._

_Scorpius had flushed so darkly, he resembled a tomato._

—————

Scorpius enters his office the following Monday morning, being met with a scowling Roxanne Weasley in his chair.

He stops, a hand gripped tight to his coffee cup, the other to his briefcase. Despite his late Autumn jacket, the room feels cold.

He swallows. “Hello, Miss Weasley.” He slowly sets down his coffee, then his briefcase. “What can I do for you?” He sits on the stiff chairs across from his desk, knowing full well that he wasn’t getting his own back.

Roxanne Weasley glared, heatedly. “Why did I have to eavesdrop on Albus Potter and Rayna Corner’s conversation to hear about a certain dinner on Friday night?”

Scorpius blinks, face heating up. “What?”

“Don’t lie, Scorpius Malfoy, it doesn’t fit you,” Roxanne says this strongly, but had soon found interest in her wand that she was twirling in her hands. “Plus, your dad seemed extremely cheerful in his letter yesterday.”

Scorpius scrunches up his nose at the reminder of Roxanne’s fancy, before realizing something. 

“You were listening to Albus Severus’s and Corner’s conversation?” 

Roxanne throws him a withering glare. “ _Of course I listen to their conversations._ Didn’t you realize? Albus has been so closed up since his Hogwarts years. He only talks to Rose, Teddy, his parents, and as of the last few months, Rayna Corner. It’s surprising he even told her because it has to do with you, but I guess Rose and his parents wouldn’t want to hear about it, and Teddy has been the middle man for the past seven years, so he deserves a break.”

“She saw us talking on Friday, as well,” adds Scorpius, “in the cafeteria.”

Roxanne looks enraged. “When?”

Scorpius squeaks, before changing the subject quickly. “So when did you start eavesdropping?”

Roxanne settles down, still looking at him suspiciously. “Ever since his seventh year. At least I tried. Uncle Harry always put up silencing charms until the whole The-Malfoys-Will-Come-Back idea died down and The-Malfoys-Are-Stupid-Gits mood rose, because he wasn’t too shy about those conversations.” Roxanne winces at her words, but Scorpius keeps his hurt expression calm. “I started with his and Uncle Harry’s since I was still afraid of Teddy back then, and Rose wasn't keen on talking to anyone after you left, even Albus.”

“Why was everyone afraid of Teddy?” Scorpius asks.

“He was the most savage Hufflepuff I ever knew, Scorpius Malfoy, his family members are just blind to his scariness. So we - Oh, mind you, usually it’s Lily and me, so…” She eyes him. “Keep your charm down.”

Scorpius is giddy despite the warning. “Bloody hell no. It was _amazing,_ Roxanne. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I got to start talking to him again. He had to go, as you know, but that half-hour or hour or however long it was, I couldn’t tell you, honestly, was… perfect. I really missed him, Roxy.”

Roxanne looks at him strangely. “You know, you never told me what he said to make you rethink your prickish decisions from seven years ago.”

Scorpius straightens. “That’s between Al and I.”

“Ah.” She nods, standing up. “Well, I got to go… But, Scorpy, about Albus…”

Scorpius furrows his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“How do you feel about him?” she asks.

Scorpius doesn’t miss a beat.

“I miss him every day, even when I’m with him, because I know he’s going to leave sooner or later.” 

Roxanne gives him one more inquisitive study before nodding and leaving. It isn’t until Scorpius is settled behind his desk and with his coffee to his lips, that he realizes that may not have been what she was asking.

And thinks that it may have answered the original question anyway.


End file.
